Life, Love & The Forbidden
by itrustyoutokillme
Summary: AU. Sara is 16 and in Highschool, Michael is 20 and in college. However, the time is set in the present day and not ten years ago or so. Fate brings them together and yayness enues!
1. Rebel Eyes

Sara pushed her glasses up her face as she stared into the laptop through the darkness. Her room was dimly lit and it was late. A small beam of light shone under her bedroom door across her carpet and she kept glancing to it, looking for any sign of a shadow.

"I will be in so much trouble," she typed into the message box, never taking her eyes from the screen. A biology text book sat next to her on her desk opened to a page about female anatomy and reproduction.

"You'll be fine. The password is bacon," said the flashing box on her screen. Suddenly a shadow passed between the light of Sara's bedroom door and it clicked open.

"Sara?" a tired, masculine voice called his accent slightly southern. In stepped her father, a man of average height, build and demeanour. He was just average, her dad. But he was also an over zealous single parent and the state Governor.

Sara quickly minimised the flashing box and her homework popped onto the screen. Ovaries littered her view as she flipped a page in her text book, skimming the text. Her father walked towards her, his slippers shuffling across the carpet causing footprints to form in its luxurious fibres. She pretended not to notice him until he laid a caring hand to her shoulder.

Pretending to be startled she jumped, her sixteen year old body leaping from the wooden chair it sat in. "Daddy," she exclaimed on a breathe, her hand resting on her heartbeat that did not change.

"I'm sorry," he apologised for scaring her. He glanced at her screen before his eyes fell on the book to her side. He blushed slightly from the images. "Try not to be too late," he told her with a smile, planting a kiss to her soft auburn hair.

"I won't," she promised and watched him leave. The door clicked shut in the frame and she heard him close his own down the corridor. Her eyes remained fixated on the light below from the hall before it disappeared and the only sound that could be heard was from the hum of her hard drive.

Sara quickly dismissed last weeks homework assignment that she had already handed in and maximised the conversation box. "He's gone to bed," she typed in a rush. "I'll be right there."

Sara was a rebel. But a good one, virginal and responsible. She was kind, polite and courteous to her father's face and a different person behind it. She snuck out, went to wild parties and often got drunk. She figured what he didn't know couldn't hurt him. Her grades remained high and she saw no harm in enjoying her teens.

Her friend and her boyfriend waiting in the chilled night air on the corner of the street. They all met here regularly and went to college parties. The campus was just down the road and if you knew the password, you could get in. Luckily, her friend's boyfriend was in college and so that wasn't a problem.

He bounced on his feet and rubbed his hands together. His long black jacket neglected to warm his hands in their pockets so he resorted to friction instead. Her friend, dressed in a white top, tight skin hugging black pants and dark brown leather boots tapped her foot impatiently.

Sara ran her hands through her curly hair, trying desperately to turn it into a style as she approached them. She wore a sleeveless black top that tied up at the back with a small scrap of ribbon and made her breasts push out and seem bigger. Like her friend she wore black pants and black heeled boots.

"About time," her friend shot at her, glancing at the time on her cell phone. Sara gave her an apologetic glance before they made their way down the street. The music from the house could be heard before they even saw it, its bass line violating the still night. Sara's stomach tickled with a pang of nerves and she laid her hand on it gently.

Her boots clicked on the sidewalk as they made their way to the door. A guy in a white shirt, his buttons undone to reveal a retro t-shirt beneath, stood before them. He has a beer bottle in one hand and his eyes looked red, probably from the heat inside. He was reluctantly on password duty.

"Password," he shouted at them over the music, holding his hand to the back of his ear, straining to listen for their reply. Sara looked at her friend who looked back at her, a nervous smile spreading across her face.

Her boyfriend leant forward to the guys ear and whispered something into it, presumably the password. He stepped back into position beside his girlfriend and the guy nodded, pushing the door behind him open.

The music hit Sara like a rush of adrenaline, shaking her to her bones. The doormen gave her a filthy grin as she walked past him and she hung her head to hide from his glares. He licked his lips before placing the beer there and drinking hungrily, a drop or two missing his mouth and running down his chin. Sara grimaced and pushed her way into the party.

The second they got into the party Sara was alone. Her friend had her boyfriend and she had no one. Taking residence in the kitchen she poured herself a drink into a bright blue plastic cup and leant against the counter. She sighed before taking a sip, the taste bitter and unwelcome on her tongue.

Across the room a similar person stood alone. He sipped his beer from a bottle, each time licking his lips of the residue afterwards, resting the bottle to his stomach. He watched her as she stood alone, her throat fighting desperately not to swallow the sour liquid each time it entered her mouth.

Knowing someone was looking her way she raised her head slowly and scanned the party. People bumped into each other, moving furiously to the music. Some girl who was obviously drunk had taken off her top and was dancing on a table while a crowd of guys jeered her on. Sara's eyes met his across the cheering. He stood deathly still, staring in her hazel eyes with admiration.

Their eyes were met for what seemed like forever as they both just stood and stared. Sara's mouth was open a crack with amazement of his handsomeness. He wore dark blue jeans and a khaki t shirt that displayed the logo of some band or another. His large hands cradled the beer bottle at his front and he lazily traced the label with his thumb.

He smiled and she melted away. The music seemed to fade away as he pushed himself from the wall and strode confidently towards her. Her entire body flushed with anticipation, her hairs prickling beneath her clothes. He didn't walk; he glided towards her, one hand in his back pocket and the other gripping his bottle.

"Hey," he said simply, a word of greeting, but with a thousand connotations. Before she had time to answer he was rushed from the side, his massive bulk loosing slight balance on the floor under his feet.

"FIGHT!" his friend screamed at him before dragging him towards the table in the front of the house. Sara's eyes filled with worry as he was torn from her view. He reluctantly allowed himself to be dragged across the room, his eyes saying sorry to Sara in a blue haze of sorrow.

Two guys smashed to the floor as the music stopped and masculine encouragement and clapping filled the room. Sara watched as one guy punched the other, his bloody nose streaming down his face, teeth barred in anger. The guy she had been staring at stepped in and pulled one guy from the other, pushing them apart.

"Come on, this party blows," shrugged her friend as she stepped into her view. Sara nodded and slapped her empty disposable cup onto the counter behind her, where it tumbled over. Following her friend from the party she shot one last glance over her shoulder. The guy was gone, evaporated in a crowd of cheering college boys.


	2. His Angel

Chicago on a Saturday was the worst time of the week to go anywhere and it was certainly a form of suicide to try and do so in your car. Rush hour traffic was not limited to a specific hour, but instead to the whole day. Michael sighed, his hands resting lightly on his steering wheel tapping impatiently as he sat. The architectural engineering student watched cars crawl by him in the next lane and his senses were invaded by abuse and honking.

His car crept forward but only an inch. Michael pulled up his parking brake and took his foot from the brake pedal, resigned to the fact he wasn't moving anywhere fast. In front of him was a cab, a man in the back was busy shouting at the aging driver for taking them the direction they had gone. To his left was a big truck, full of kids and suitcases and he chuckled to himself when the parents squeezed their tired eyes shut in realisation that it was too late to turn back home.

On his right the sidewalks heaved with people rushing in both directions. He thanked the fact that it wasn't hot out today and switched his radio off when the babble from the DJ was just too much for his intelligence to handle. With nothing left to distract him, his mind drifted back to the party and that girl. That girl who was like an angel incarnate, sipping nectar from a disposable chalice in his castle. He had never seen her before and not seen anything since.

The traffic line moved and Michael quickly filled the empty space with his hood. The taxi ahead of him braked suddenly as the passenger stormed from the rear, throwing some bills into the front window followed by some more abuse at the driver. Michael's eyes went wide as he slammed on his brakes, his car screeching on the asphalt. Another screech behind him and a crash made Michael's head hit the wheel as his car was shunted.

Dizzily he reached for his head, blood staining his fingertips. He winced from the pain and shot a look into his rear view mirror. The car was big and black with a silver trim around the front grill and a heavy door swung open as a tall guy in a flat black cap stepped out. He was wearing a suit and white gloves and immediately opened his passenger door, letting Governor Tancredi step out into the street.

"You got to be kidding me," Michael shook his head from side to side, feeling like the unluckiest man in the world. He reluctantly reached for his door handle, pulling it towards him to release the latch. His car door opened and he stepped out into the stationary traffic. Governor Tancredi was too busy shaking off his chauffeur to realise he was approaching them.

"I am so sorry," he announced, breaking up their riff. The driver shot him a glance but before he spoke he was cut off by the Governor.

"It's ok son," he assured him, noticing the gash on his head. "It was nobody's fault," he glared to the taxicab passenger that was disappearing into the crowd ahead of them. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" he tapped his forehead with his finger at the same spot Michael was injured. Frank looked him over. Michael's dark blue shirt was long sleeved but the sleeves had been rolled up and his light jeans displayed a blood smear where Michael had wiped his hand earlier.

Following his gaze Michael shook his head, reassuring him he was fine. "Oh no, that's from my head," he told him flinching at the stinging on his temple. Frank nodded and looked at the damage done to his car. Michael did too, heat prickling his body while he contemplated kissing goodbye to his college course so he could pay for the repair costs.

"It doesn't look too bad," Frank suggested. "I'll just take your name and contact number in case it costs a lot to repair," he smiled at Michael. "Then we'll get insurance companies involved." Understanding his cooperation Michael smiled and thanked him profusely. For a politician, he wasn't half bad.

Frank turned to his open rear door and sucked in a large gulp of air. "Hey Sara, bring me a pen would you?" he called. Michael watched the car bounce and a slim teenager step from the car. She threw her head back her wavy reddish-brown locks fell from her face and landed on her shoulders. Michael's eyes widened and his stomach fell away from him. It was his angel.

Sara blushed as she handed her father the pen, locking eyes with Michael briefly. He gave her a crooked smile as his heart skipped a beat in his chest, the blood leaving his face, as he stood with his mouth open in awe, staring at her beauty. Oblivious to their interaction, Frank proceeded to ask Michael his name.

"Michael Scofield," he stuttered directly at her and not her father. She smiled at his revelation and pointed to her head indicating his wound with a questioning look. Michael raised his blood encrusted eyebrow and rolled his eyes upwards to try and see his wound. He shrugged to her as he gave her father his telephone number, his blue green eyes drinking in her perfect figure.

"Oh Michael, this is my daughter Sara," Frank motioned with his pen around his arm towards her. Sara blushed again when Michael smiled.

"Nice to meet you Sara," he began. "Sorry about all of this," he apologised waving a flat palm to the connection between their two cars. She let out a small laugh at his attempts and pushed her hands into her back pockets.

"You should get that cut seen to. You're going to need stitches," she told him matter of factly with a nod. Frank smiled at himself in pride before handing Michael a piece of paper with his name and contact details on it.

"Sara wants to be a Doctor," he told him with a fulfilled grin. "Listen to her," he ordered in a light tone.

"Yes sir," Michael told him and pushed the folded paper into his jeans and watched them step back into their car. Michael stepped backwards to his, wanting to take in every last view of her before she disappeared again. She smiled at him one last time before the large silver trimmed door was shut behind her.

The Governors car reversed in the lightening traffic and swung out around Michael's. He watched the car drive past and smirked. He had found her.


	3. Butterfly Stitches in the Dark

Michael had been at the hospital for hours, just for a petite brunette calling herself a nurse to um and ah at his head. She had subsequently painfully irrigated his wound using a long needle of numbing agent and saline. She had commented on how unfortunate he was to have run into the Governor but Michael really didn't listen. His thoughts were other places as he left the ER with two tiny butterfly stitches across his eyebrow.

The dorm where he lived was basically a glorified mansion, overrun with young men that couldn't cook, clean up after themselves or hold girlfriends. It had eight separate rooms, each occupied by a student who, unlike Michael, had no intention of actually following a career in the field they were studying. Michael dreamed about being an architect. He saw real beauty in buildings. The way they were designed, the way they were built and how they went from nothing to extravagant in a matter of months.

Turning his key in the door quietly, so as not to wake any of his brothers, Michael pushed on the heavy wooden door and it creaked open. The dorm was silent and only the low hum of an old movie and the flickering of a TV interrupted the night. Michael turned to the old grandfather clock they had in the hall behind the door and it read 3AM. He really had been at the hospital for hours.

One of his dorm mates, Gage Jackson, was slumped in the armchair opposite the TV. Michael leant down and flicked the TV switch on it, turning it off with a squeak. Gage snorted and shuffled in the chair, his face frowning and his mouth falling open. Content that his friend would be fine, Michael walked through the corridor to make his way to the top of a small staircase behind a wooden door.

The stairs creaked as Michael dragged his tired body down them, gliding his hands down the dark stained wood handrail as he went. The eight rooms of the house were divided between three levels. Four appeared on the lower level, the same level as the front door. Then three were on the second level and his room was a basement conversion.

His room was cooler than the rest of the house but he didn't mind. He was used to it. Inside his room was like a mini apartment. It had a separate room where his bedroom was, complete with an en suite, a lounge area and kitchenette and was pristine. Walking into his bedroom he lazily pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, kicked off his footwear and flopped face first onto his bed.

His eyes were heavy and didn't need much help to stay closed. A tiny red light flickered on the bedside table beside him indicating he had an phone message. Even though his eyes were closed he could still see the blinking light through the darkness as it lit up the corner of the room. Blindly he reached a heavy arm across to the machine and pressed the button. The flashing stopped and a loud beep filled the air.

"You have two new messages," the machine droned before beeping again, piercing the silence. "Message one…"

"Hey Mike, it's Linc. Just called to see how you were doing but you didn't answer so I guess you're out. I'll call you later. Stay out of trouble bro," a click and the sound of the message ending blurted from the speaker. Michael sighed, eyes still closed tightly. Lincoln called him every week, once a week to see how he was doing. He never kept to a schedule so more often than not Michael missed his call.

"Message two…" the computerised man said.

"Hey Michael, it's Sara," it began. Michael's eyes flew open and he lifted his head from the pillows, listening intently to the machine. "I just wanted to make sure you were ok," her voice sounded disappointed and Michael shuffled on his belly towards the machine. "I'll call you tomorrow," and she was gone.

Michael rolled over onto his back, resting a lazy hand on his chest. He was suddenly very awake and stared into the darkness of his ceiling. Every time he closed his eyes to sleep there she was, imprinted on his eyelids forever more. Her cute red hair bounced on her shoulders and she smiled that divine smile at him, making him melt inside.

He flipped himself over onto his side and rested his head on his elbow. A smile spread across his lips as he laid there, a silvery light from the moon casting itself across his features in the darkness. Tomorrow was Sunday and he knew he would be doing nothing. His schedule has suddenly become crystal clear in anticipation of Sara's call.


	4. Thinking of You

Michael heard ringing but it took him a few minutes to realise it wasn't a dream. He peeled a lazy eye open and stared blankly at the wall in front of him. He frowned, the ringing continuing to fill the room before he realised it was the phone. Sucking in a large breath and exhaling it on a yawn, Michael rolled himself over on his bed and reached for the phone.

He was tired and dragged the receiver to his ear where he propped it against his head. "Um…hello?" he groaned into the mouthpiece in more of a sound than a word. His mouth hung open and his breathing was still relaxed and noisy.

"Michael?" the cheery voice questioned him. He didn't recognise the voice for a second and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "Michael Scofield?" it repeated, sounding convinced they had the wrong number. A half conscious Michael just murmured a confirming grunt into the phone. "Michael, it's Sara." She said.

Suddenly he was very awake, his eyes shot open and he sat bolt upright, shuffling to lean against his metal headboard. The metallic surface was cold on his bare skin and it tingled with the contact of hot and cold. He took a dry gulp, trying to clear his voice before answering her. "Hey," he said quickly, coughing lightly afterwards.

He could hear her smile at his sorry excuse for composure. "Did you get my message?" she asked when a silence between them indicated he had no idea why she was calling.

"Um…" Michael stuttered, trying to remember the night before. Truth was he couldn't. All he knew was his head throbbed and his eyebrow itched as well as feeling twice the size it normally did. He reached his hand up to it and pulled away quickly when he felt the stitches and the tenderness of his bruised skin.

"That's ok," Sara told him and he immediately felt guilty. "You hit your head pretty bad. You probably had a concussion," she said in a concerned tone but also a relieved one. "Michael?" she prodded him down the line with her voice when he was silent again.

"Um…yeah," he said distracted. "I'm here," he assured her as he leapt from his bed and headed into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror, his eyebrow puffed up and purple as the stitches strained to keep the skin pulled together.

"You don't remember me do you?" Sara breathed down the phone in a miserable tone. Michael spun around to head back into his bedroom and had to catch the phone when it threatened to slip from his grasp.

"Of course I remember you Sara," he calmed her closing his eyes briefly to remember her entire beauty in his mind's vision. "I can't forget you," he suddenly owned up without thinking. "I mean…" he stalled rapidly before he heard her giggle lightly on the other end of the phone. He smiled, his heart doing summersaults in his chest.

"It's ok," she soothed his blushing persona. "I can't stop thinking about you either," she said in a more serious manner. Michael's breath caught in his throat and he became hot and sweaty. His stomach ached with need and he swallowed audibly down the phone. He needed to see her today or he would explode.

"Hey, do you want to maybe go somewhere today?" He stammered nervously. "With me I mean…" She laughed at him again and he smiled. Her laugh was intoxicating and he loved it.

"Sure," she agreed. "How about I meet you at the park in an hour?" Michael glanced at his watch. Was it really the afternoon already?

"That will be great," he grinned. After saying their good byes Michael stared lovingly at the receiver in his hand before biting his lip and placing it back on its cradle. He had an hour to make himself presentable and get to the park.

The sun was warm on his skin but he was already on fire. Just hearing Sara's voice made him feel warm inside and he felt as if he had known her for so long. She wasn't shy when she told him her feelings. A tiny voice at the back of his head reminded him she was the Governor's daughter but as he sat here, taking in her spectacular sight he was lost.

They talked for hours, pouring their heart and souls into what they said. He told her about his brother and she told him she wished she had brothers and sisters. He felt sorry for her, a Governor's daughter with no one to share her bustling lifestyle with. Her hair flapped in the breeze as she spoke, the sun's rays illuminating the strands a vibrant red colour.

Her attire was too much. She wore figure hugging jeans that had a tiny embroidered motif around the waistband hidden beneath a black leather belt that had blunt triangle studs on it. She wore a thin red strappy top but her milky shoulders were hidden from his view by an army green shirt. It was small, tight to her body and the capped sleeves seemed rolled up and buttoned, although Michael thought it was just the fashion.

As she leant back on the grass her tops rode up and Michael caught a glimpse of her smooth, creamy stomach. It was flecked with tiny blonde hairs that trapped insulating hair between them as the breeze brushed her skin. Michael tore his eyes from her briefly once the image had etched itself on his memory. She pulled her pink Converse All Stars through the medium length grass and hugged her knees, wiggling her toes in her shoes.

"What about you?" she asked him genuinely. Michael looked at her dumbfounded. He had been so lost in her image he hadn't been listening very well. Sara looked vexed and pushed his shoulder playfully. "You weren't listening," she teased to which he laughed heartily. Michael fell to the grass dramatically before springing back to his sitting position.

"I was," he exclaimed through a laugh. "What were we talking about?" he grinned a toothy smile and her mouth fell open in disbelief. He ducked from a flying hand as it went to swat the back of his head. Michael laughed harder, enjoying his game as she grabbed a handful of grass and tossed it at him with theatrical effort.

"You're unbelievable," she smiled at him, crossing her arms and acting hurt. He brushed the grass from his head and flicked a few pieces from his shirt onto the ground.

"I try," he told her with a nod. A silence followed where they just stared at each other. Michael loved the way she looked, the way she smelt, the way she did everything. Even when she tucked a stray strand of her auburn locks behind her delicate ear he loved it. Tearing their gazes apart, Sara glanced at the watch of her wrist and sighed.

"I have to go. Homework," she told him with distain, pulling a face like she had just tasted something foul. Michael pushed himself to his feet and reached out both his hands to help her up. She took his hands in hers and pulled against him as he pulled her to her feet. He held her hands a little longer then he needed but neither said anything.

Sara pulled one had from his warm touch and brushed a blade of grass from his bruised eyebrow. Her fingers were healing and Michael felt no pain and she gently picked the offending item from his brow. His eyes followed her hand up and he came alive with excitement as her skin connected with his. He thanked her with a smile and offered to walk her home.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around," she told him as they stepped up onto her big white porch. Michael stood a step lower so they were eye level and he looked at his feet nervously. Sara quickly leant forward and rested a flat palm against his chest as she planted a soft lingering kiss to his cheek. Michael's eyes closed as he tried to think of anything but what her touch on his skin. He gulped silently.

She flashed him a last smile before disappearing into her big white front door leaving him hot and flustered on the porch. He smiled to himself as his weak legs carried him down the steps of the porch. His footprints crunched on the gravel driveway as he walked behind it, turning to take one last look at the big house before he broke into a sprint and jogged home.


	5. Library Privileges

The cafeteria of Sara's school bustled with life. Teenage life to be precise, complete with the occasional food fight, flipped tray and a whole table of geeks and misfits. Sara sat with her friend, the same as she did every lunchtime and ate her bland food. However, today the normally cardboard texture of her Tuesday taco was uplifted by the thought of Michael.

"So," Her friend chimed whilst munching open mouthed on her meaty snack. "What did you do over the weekend?" She didn't even look at Sara. She figured she just spent the weekend with her father. Sara pretty much always did.

"I went shopping with my father on Saturday," Sara started with the boring stuff. Her friend rolled her eyes, knowing and expecting that answer. The Governor's daughter always got what she wanted. "And I met a guy," Sara quickly filled her mouth with more taco.

Her friend swallowed hard, the crunchy maize shell scratching her throat. Her eyes were wide with excitement and she dropped her remaining taco, meat spilling from the shell onto her plate. She shot a few glances around her as if on some covert mission of secrecy before she said calmly, "A guy?"

Sara blushed. It wasn't really a question on her friend's part, rather the girl's code for "tell me everything you know now". Sara swallowed her mouth full of tangy food and smiled at her friend. "He's in college too," she boasted. Her friend practically threw her food off the table as she slid her tray out of her way and dived across the table.

"Is it someone from that party?" she pried, her face twisting in thought as she tried to recall faces. Sara just smiled and lower her eyes. Her friend fell back in her chair and squealed. Heads turned towards their table and the word "loser" was exchanged between peers.

"Tara! Shhh!" Sara hushed her friend but couldn't help but giggle. Tara raised her arms above her head and waved them around wildly, pointing fingers towards Sara.

"College girlfriend right here!" she bellowed. Sara reached up and grabbed her arms, yanking them down with a thud on the table. Her friend grinned mischievously, biting her tongue mockingly.

"Tara, shut up," Sara tried to hide her head by bobbing it lower to the table. "It can't get to my father," she whispered across the surface of the table, her breath making a damp trail of condensation. A teacher sprung up in the corner of the vast hall and narrowed his eyes through his thin-rimmed glasses towards them. Sara caught his eyes briefly before staring straight at Tara.

"What?" Tara asked, her grin fading. Sara's eyes shot over her shoulder and Tara spun around, following her gaze. Tara's eyes met with the teacher's and she turned back to Sara with a giggle. "Relax," she tapped Sara's shoulder playfully. "My dad never believes a word I say," she stuffed a forkful of cold, oily salad into her mouth.

Sara smiled weakly. "Let's hope so," she sighed.

Once a week Sara's math class had the privilege of using the campus library and it's resources at the local college. It just so happened to be the college Michael attended but she wasn't worried about running into him. She had been coming here for months with her math class and had never seen him.

Tara had teased her on the drive over and because they were in a cramped mini van, the school's logo and name printed on the side in blue italics, she couldn't do anything but ignore her and hope that she disappeared. The library building was as impressive as the campus. It looked like a government building with large stone columns holding up a balcony that students could study on in the summer.

Inside it was silent. Every once in a while a cough pierced the air and a librarian's head shot up from a computer screen, glaring at whoever had ruined her silence. Sara's math class followed their teacher in single file towards the main desk and another librarian, glasses poised on the end of her nose glared down the line of students when the teacher said something to her.

The librarian pointed an elderly finger towards a group of tables situated between two huge rows of heavy leather bound books. Sara followed her finger with her gaze and rested her eye on the back on a fuzzy shaven head. Her stomach tingled and she felt blood surge through her body, the hairs on her arms standing to attention.

As the rest of her group made their way to the group of table's she kept her eyes firmly on the broad shoulders. The muscles beneath the shirt that covered them flexed as the owner's hands busily flipped through what looked like blueprints and artistic sketches of buildings. Sara went deaf and all she could hear was her heartbeat as their group breezed past him.

Michael suddenly felt very watched as he researched past architectural techniques by himself. Tracing paper and blueprints were spread out before him and he had a short pencil tucked behind one ear. He tried to shrug off the sound of high school students filling the reception behind him and was thankful when they went quiet. But he still felt watched.

He heard them approaching his set of tables and as they did so his skin prickled with heat and he looked up from his paperwork. At the back of the group was Sara, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders. She didn't turn but her hand by her side twitched and her fingers curled into an upside down wave. Michael was taken back for a second before he smiled and returned to his paper work.

"What are you up to?" Sara's voice echoed into Michael's soul. She sat opposite him, a heavy math book opened before her. Michael folded his large tracing pages back to their original position and laid his hands flat upon them.

"Nothing now," he smiled at her, their eyes meeting once more. "You?" he peered into her book and Sara followed his gaze to the book's pages.

"Geometry," she scrunched her nose up and it turned white where it wrinkled.

"Ah," Michael pulled his eyes from the pages to meet hers once more, "Easy," he beamed. The corners of his mouth turned up and his mouth fell open a smidge to reveal his perfect white teeth. Sara pushed air out between her lips audibly.

"Maybe for you," she pouted slamming her hand on the book, the noise gaining a glance from the nearby librarian. Sara's eyes dropped to the book as she pretended to read and waited for the attention to shift to another noisy library goer. She rested her hand on her head and it titled to the side, her rosy locks spilling onto the page.

"I can help you if you like," Michael offered noticing her frustration. Sara's mouth turned up at the corners and she blinked at him.

"Seriously?" she asked, not believing him for a second but wishing his proposal was genuine. He nodded and began to pack up his paperwork, rolling the huge blueprints into a tight roll and pushing them into a black cylindrical tube.

"Sure," he capped the tube off with a dark blue screw on lid. He gathered a book in his arms and replaced it on the shelf behind him, turning and throwing his shoulder bag across his chest where it rested at a diagonal line. Sara's eyes watched him intently until he towered over her ready to leave. "I'll see you back here…" he poked his blunt finger into the desk. "…at four thirty"

Sara grinned childishly at him, a smile that was without shame but full of thanks gracing her face. "See you then," she told him as he backed away from her, extending his hand to wave at her one last time before escaping her sight around one of the heavy book cases.


	6. Being Honest

As soon as school was out Sara was back at the library. Her dirty pink Converse slapped hard on the pavement as she sprinted for the colossus building. Her bag strap crossed her body and she clutched the strap to her chest, stopping the bag from bouncing around while she ran. Her hair bobbed furiously up and down behind her and she panted hard.

Reaching the large doors she stopped to briefly inspect her reflection in the glass before entering the silence. The same librarian as earlier glared at her over the desk and Sara lowered her head, averted her eyes and strode quickly to the tabled clearing between the dusty shelves. As if she had expected any less, Michael was sitting tapping the rubber end of a pencil to a Geometry textbook.

"Hey Michael," she breathed, still short of breath from her exerted sprint. "Sorry I'm late," she offered, taking a seat next to him and brushing her hair from her face. Her cheeks were flushed pink where she had run and her breathing had only half returned to normal.

Michael had his arms crossed on the desk in front of him and his chin rested on one of his forearms. He raised his eyebrows, pouted his bottom lip and slid his chin sideways, turning his head awkwardly. "It's ok," he said although it was difficult because his teeth were pushed together. "You're here now," he beamed at her.

Sara's already pinkish complexion deepened in colour and she turned away from him to grab some notes from her bag. Michael pushed himself upright, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms out. He brought his hands to the back of his head and interlocked his fingers. The muscles in his arms contracted and bulged through his rippling skin.

"Right," he prompted a start to their study session by leaning forward and running his finger down the page in his textbook. "What can I help you with?" He asked her, eyes still fixed to the page. Sara's mouth went dry as she conjured images in her sexually charged teenage mind.

"Um…" she shook them off and tried to focus on her Geometry notes once more. She scanned her homework title and summarised the task in hand. "…Deductive reasoning and Geometric Proof." Sara tried to sound like she knew what at least part of it meant.

Michael smiled at her foolish nature and studied her features. They were still beautiful in the false library lighting. "And which parts do you understand?" he asked, still fixated on her. "So I know what I can skip," he picked up his pencil again and began flicking to the index of his book.

Sara looked over her notes, comically sounding a long emphasised "um" noise. "Oh yes," she exclaimed triumphantly, placing a finger to the paper. Michael continued to flick his pages but briefly sent his gaze to hers. "The word "And"," she laughed. Michael's shoulder's jiggled, as he laughed low in his chest.

"Then we'd better get some work done," he told her, sliding the textbook across the table so it rested on the table between them. He pressed his pencil tip to the page and lightly underlined a header with a thin grey line. Sara shuffled with a few papers before leaning in to view the same page. Michael watched as her arm pressed up against his, jolting his skin to life.

Her hazel eyes were fixated on the page before her as Michael watched her. He was trying to explain the theory but she was his live distraction and too readily available to get lost in. Her frown pinched up on her face and her lips pushed out as she thought. She rested her chin onto her smooth milky skinned hand and rocked it back and forth, the loose skin on her elbow rolling around the joint. Michael formed a hidden smile at her antics, his fingers moving to hold his elbows, tingling as they brushed her arm.

A silence between them followed as they both stared at the page before them. Neither was really looking at it, leaving it neglected on the desk. Sara copied Michael's gesture, moving to cup her elbows in her hands. Michael's heart skipped in his chest when her fingers touched his with a feather soft grace. Sara coughed lightly, never taking her eyes from the book as her skin prickled with passion.

Michael was just about to speak about the problem on the page when he felt Sara's delicate fingertips stretch out and caress his larger but still soft hands. His eyes fell to where their arms were squeezed together and her fingers were coaxing his to interlock with hers. Without saying a word, Michael stretched out his own fingers and gripped onto Sara's.

Sara's entire body shook inside, the surge of adrenaline taking her by surprise. It was a mixture of pleasure and fear. A mixture she enjoyed but was reluctant to take any further. Their fingers danced slowly, making love with each other through velvet fingertips. Suddenly they relaxed and Michael rested his over Sara's on her elbow, gently brushing his thumb over the sensitive digits.

Sara felt a rush of need as her stomach fluttered and her cheeks blushed. She gripped onto Michael's fingers with an intensity that scared him a little. Michael felt an ominous wave rush over him but rode it out, it fading from his being as her essence invaded him.

"Michael," Sara broke the silence. Michael snapped his head towards hers, his mouth dry from their tiny contact. He was amazed by Sara and what she did to him with so little effort.

"Sara," he said her name like hot chocolate flowing in a fountain. It was euphoric to her ears and she had to pause a moment to regain her composure as he continued to stroke her hand.

"I want to be honest with you," she pulled her hands from his touch and turned in her seat to face him. Michael copied her, resting one arm on the desk and one over the back on his chair. He felt scared that she might reveal something that would end their friendship as she ran a shaky hand through her hair. "And I understand if you don't want to see me ever again after I tell you," she lowered her head, staring at her hands as they lay in her lap.

"Hey," Michael comforted in a masculine tone full of care and loving. He reached out his hand and gently titled her head so their eyes met. Sara's eyes were darker then before and they seemed a little watery with a few tiny tears. "Nothing you could say would make me stop caring for you," he told her defiantly, moving his hand to brush a fallen tear from her cheek.

Sara let out a nervous laugh and quickly wiped another tear before it threatened to fall. "You don't know what I am going to say yet," she said sadly, knowing that what ever she said could potentially ruin her chances with Michael. She cared for him and she felt it her duty to tell him she was only sixteen, not the initial eighteen she had told him in the park that Sunday. She had to before he stole her away forever.

Michael sat back in his stool, taking his warm hands from her skin and leaving cool patches where her salty tears had fallen. Michael looked over his shoulder sideways to the large reception desk. The librarian was gone, probably filing away books in another department. He took in a deep breath and with swift precision he cupped her cheek in one hand and pressed his lips to hers.

Every thought Sara has was gone and only he and the sound of her quickening heartbeat remained. The kiss was short, rushed through fear of being caught, and it left her wanting more. As he pulled away to look into her eyes once more, a gentle hand still rubbing her cheek, he smiled. "Nothing you could say would make me stop wanting you," he admitted in whisper.

Sara's mouth hung open slightly, hot breathe escaping her lips as she panted a little to meet the requirements of her excited lungs. His eyes bore into her soul, soothing her fears and chasing away her worry that had settled there.

Michael had not expected her to react with silence and he shifted his gaze to the floor and apologised. "I'm sorry," he said. "I shouldn't have…"

"Don't be," she cut him off and smiled at him. His spirits lifted and he gave her a smile in reply. Sara had faith that they could make it through anything life could throw at them. After all he had kissed her. He had kissed her and it had felt like she had collided with a cloud, the softness enveloping her and keeping her safe from harm.

Her smile turned into a toothy grin as she dropped her gaze back to the table and leant forward on the table with a giggle. Michael scooted his chair across the carpeted floor and their knees bumped under the table. One hand found her knee and the other found her back as he leant forward to speak, his large hand span spreading across her dainty frame. "What's so funny?" he whispered into her ear, his sweet, kissable mouth mere millimetres from her skin.

Sara turned her head so their lips where almost touching, her eyes flicking between his beautiful grey blue orbs and his lips. "It took you long enough," she teased with reference to their first kiss before capturing his lips in another.


	7. Two Weeks Later Part 1

"I don't feel comfortable sneaking around," Michael said with effort as he climbed in Sara's bedroom window. His casual jeans were a dark blue in colour, a fashionable rip above the knee exposing his skin and allowing dark hairs to be seen. They popped from the tear as the fabric tightened over his knee as he swung his leg over the frame.

"Well you can't come in the front door," she giggled at his posture, half in and half out, a tattered jean leg caught on the tree outside. He pulled gently so as not to disturb anyone outside and draw attention to his situation. "Mia will see you and tell dad," she finished still humoured by his attempt to get in at all. He tumbled onto the soft carpet causing a floorboard to creek and her bedside lamp to shake.

"Mia?" he quizzed from his heap on the floor. Sara heard heels clicking on the marbled lobby flooring and rushed to his side, pressing her thin, smooth finger to his lips. He stopped his erratic breathing and held his breath, his eyes flying to the door. Sara was also frozen to the spot, her eyes wide and her ears straining to hear any more movement from downstairs.

After a second the heels stopped and Sara's body tingling fear as a silence echoed through the mansion. Michael's eyes darted to her tense body as he gently pulled her hand from his face. "Mia?" he repeated in a faint whisper, barely audible.

"Shh!" Sara told him, as she crawled across the floor, pressing her ear to the door. Michael smiled at her antics before crawling after her, his movements silent on the luxuriously thick carpet. He knelt behind her and pressed his ear to the door too, not really knowing what he was listening for but finding the whole experience funny. Sara let out a sigh of relief when the clicking heels resumed and faded off into the kitchen.

She relaxed and her body bumped into Michael's as she fell backwards. His hands instinctively came up to catch her and she jumped at the contact, falling back against him with laughter. Her auburn locks spilled across his chest and stomach and her face was scrunched up with laughter. "That was close," she smiled upside down at him.

"The maid," he guessed brushing a strand of hair from her face and helping it fall from her brow. Sara's eyes closed as he touched her. Even though the contact was barely anything it excited every fibre of her being and she nuzzled into his hand as it came to rest beside her face on his lap.

"She's the Devil," Sara nodded, her eyes meeting his. Even though she was looking up at him and he was upside down he was gorgeous. His features were still perfect when reversed and she could still tell his smile was meant for her, even if it did resemble a frown from where she was.

"I have to ask," he started as she sat up and shuffled sideways to sit facing him. One of her hands melted into the soft carpet on one side of his hip while the other poked his skin through the rip in his jeans. "Have you done this many times before?" he smirked at her lightly taking her wrist in his large hands and running smooth finger tip up and down her forearm.

Sara huffed a laugh through her nose while her closed mouth formed a wide grin. "Not with any guys," she looked up at him, her mouth falling open slightly, her kissable lips moist and begging for attention. "Until now," she bit her bottom lip playfully, her wide doe eyes rolling up to meet his as she lowered her head.

"Okay," Michael simply stared at her with a smile. Something egotistical deep inside of him paraded the fact that he was a milestone in her life. He reached his other hand up to cup her cheek before leaning down to capture her open mouth in a kiss. Sara moaned into his mouth and she pulled her arm from his grasp, reaching up to pull his face closer to hers.

With nothing to support her now she fell across his lap, Michael's body jump starting to life at the feel of her on his body. He followed her head down as she fell, smiling against her lips as she rolled over slightly so she was half on the floor and half on his lap. Sideways kissing wasn't the best, but they clumsily made the best of it, young tongues licking and tasting each other with satisfying earnest.

Sara broke the kiss and licks her lips subtly, watching as his eyes fluttered open. "Welcome back," she teased with a smile, tracing a finger across his face and down to the corner of his mouth.

"Hmmm," he reached up and took her hand in his, squashing them both to his cheek as his eyes pinched closed again. His legs shifted under her and she sat up, sitting back on her heels, bare feet sinking into the high quality cream carpet.

"Are you ok?" she asked worried when his eyes remained closed. "Did your leg fall asleep or something?" she placed a hand on his thigh, rubbing gently. Michael's hand shot out to stop her and his eyes flicked open to meet hers.

"Not exactly," he grinned, a little breathless with arousal. Sara blushed and nervously tucked a hair behind her ear before pushing herself to her feet and making her way to her laptop sitting on the desk. Michael watched her go and shut his eyes tight, blocking out her image and thinking of other stimuli. Like chairs and boats.

Sara opened the laptop and a page of writing popped up. Michael got up and crept across the floor, careful not to make any sound that might raise suspicion to him being there. He rested two heavy hands on the back of her chair and leant down to whisper in her ear. "What's that?" he asked, nestling his face into her hair and planting a kiss to her neck just below her earlobe.

Sara's entire body shuddered as all her hair stood to attention, begging to be caressed. Her eyes flickered closed and she crooked her neck towards his lips, briefly stopping her quick typing as her mind was stolen from her conscious body by his tiny butterfly kisses. Her jaw became heavy and fell open and she tired to swallow.

"My cover story," she breathed, pulling his head closer to her neck as he sucked and licked at the skin there. It started to bruise under his attention and he stopped, much to Sara's dismay. He sniffed at her hair with a deep breath, filling his senses with her feminine scent.

"For what?" he was interrupted by the sound of tyres crunching on the gravel outside and a car door slamming shut. Sara jumped up from her seat and hurried to her window. Michael followed her and peered out the large clear pane over her shoulder.

"For that," she spun around and quickly grabbed his face her hand, kissing his roughly and messily. "My dad's home," she told him in a panic, her blood surging faster around her body as her heart raced in anticipation. They could get caught at any second. Michael seized her lips in another kiss, which they were both reluctant to break. She tasted like sugar in his mouth and he savoured every stroke with his muscular tongue.

Their lips were still locked as she backed him out the window, the old tree shaking under his weight. Sara tore his lips from hers and spun her head at the door as she heard her father's footsteps approaching, his expensively smart shoes fitting with metal soles that tapped on the cold, marble effect staircase. "Go," Sara brushed his lips one last time with a coy smile.

Michael slid down the tree and landed on the damp grass with a bump, losing his balance and toppling over. Barely touching the ground he sprang to his feet and sprinted across the large, well kept lawns of the grounds and down the driveway.


	8. Two Weeks Later Part 2

Frank Tancredi was fuming as he pulled his body up the stairs, his leather shoes tapping their metal soles on the marble floor beneath his feet. He roughly gripped the circular handrail, his fingers turning white as he squeezed them closed around it. His jaw twitched, as he thought of his daughter alone with a guy in her room. The maid had told him as soon as he had walked in the door.

He didn't knock. Instead he pushed down on the cold chrome handle and threw open the door which clattered to a halt on the doorframe. It was a silent motion, the sound of his angry action muffled by the door scraping on the expensive carpet. He stepped into her room, his shirt unbuttoned at the top and his tie wrenched loose around his neck. His eyes scanned the room before falling on her figure by the window.

Sara jumped back and spun around to look at her father. He was like a bull, his shoulders hunched and his eyes were dark and empty. They darted two and fro around her room, resting on her briefly before glaring out the open window. His footstep fell silent on the carpet as he strode to the large open sash window, her light net curtains blowing into the room with a slight breeze.

"Daddy…" Sara began in mock surprise as he leant down on the frame and pushed his heavy frame through the open gap. Frank scanned the grounds, looking for any sign of a guy that might have been near his daughter. The damp grass below the tree was disturbed and some bark was chipped from the old oak's branches. Frank inhaled hard, clenching his back teeth tightly shut.

"Who was it?" he demanded, spinning to face Sara. Sara looked at him dumbfounded, her fake frown not fooling him one bit. "Sara, I know someone was here," he told her, his stare full of hatred and tenacity. His fists balled at his sides and his eyes kept scanning the room for signs he was right.

"Who was who?" Sara played the dumb card, striding past her father and taking up residence beside her laptop. "I was doing homework," she told him with a falsified giggle, her heart beating faster in her chest as she lied.

Frank's eyes shot to the flat panel beside her, a sheet of paper clearly displaying some sort of essay. His gaze fell on her once again, his little girl who had always been smarter than he was, was beating him in a game of wit. She gave him a weak smile, shaking her head slightly to propel a hair from her face. That was when Frank saw it, and his eyes widened as he closed the gap between then with two huge strides.

Sara suddenly felt a rush of fear as his heavy, weathered hands reached up and pushed her hair roughly from her neck. Sara's hand darted up to stop it, combing her hair back over her bruised neck. She blushed, her cheeks filling with blood, as her father just stared at his hand resting gently by her neck.

"It's not what you think it is," Sara broke the silence, having had time to fabricate an excuse. Frank pulled a shaky hand back from her and ran it through his short, receding hair. He dragged it back to his face, covering his closed eyes with a flat palm. "It's a bite," she told him quickly.

Frank laughed low in his chest, his hand still covering his eyes. Sara realised how bad her excuse sounded and she cursed her brain. Frank sighed before taking his hand from his brow, running it down his face and over his open mouth, cupping his stubbly chin. "I wasn't born yesterday Sara," he told her sternly, not looking at her.

Sara shifted her eyes from her father. She couldn't look at him while he was angry. She hadn't meant for this to happen and she didn't enjoy it, but her father had found out and she couldn't see any way out. She flopped sideways into her desk chair, draping her arm over the back of the chair. The silence between them returned as both of them thought about what had just happened.

Frank's mind raced. His baby, his only family, his everything was growing up. Had grown up. There was no way he could stop her now but as a parents it was his duty to try. This was how things were supposed to be. The child would rebel and the parents would become the enemy in a vicious battle for supremacy. Frank raised his head, puffed out his chest and rested his hands on his hips. Sara's eyes came up to meet his as he spoke.

"This ends right now," he told her pacing forward, a menacing finger pointing straight at her. "I forbid you to see him ever again," he bellowed, throwing his finger towards the open window as if it were the culprit. Sara felt a pang in the pit of her stomach and her eyes burned as tears welled in them.

"You can't stop me," she told him calmly but firmly, sniffing gently as her sinus reacted to her tears, blocking as they rolled down her cheeks. Frank let out a nervous laugh, putting his hand back on his hip and turning from her. "I love him," she told him, surprising herself with her words.

Frank's heels dug into the cream carpet as he turned, rushing at Sara until he was inches from her face. Sara's jumped back in her chair, crushing her eyelids together in fear. "Love?" he roared in a high-pitched voice. Sara's body shook as her crying intensified and her father's words vibrated through her body. "You're sixteen years old! You have no idea what love is," he shouted, gripping her shoulders roughly.

Sara peeled her eyes open and for the first time saw her father's fear. It shone from his eyes, illuminating his face and making him seem smaller than he was. He might be one of the most powerful people in Chicago but at this moment in time he was just as lost as the rest of the world. Sara shook herself from his grasp and wiped away her tears hurriedly with a trembling hand.

"I love him," she told him defiantly, staring straight into his blackened gaze. Frank pushed himself up, standing straight and tall above his daughter. His eyes narrowed and his arms crossed his chest as he bore down at her. If he couldn't stop them with reason, he would have to tear them apart.

"Then you are not to leave this house without my permission," his voice was low as it delivered his ultimatum and Sara jumped up in protest.

"That's not fair!" she screamed at him, her arms mirroring his across her chest.

"And you will be on a curfew," he added, using his political business voice. Sara's chest heaved as more tears threatened to fall but she clenched her jaw to try and stop them. She didn't want her father to see how his new ruling had affected her because the more fuss she made the longer he would implement it. "You are to come home straight from school," he trod past her his now uncrossed arms pointing at the floor in anger as he reached her door. He did not look at her because she was not who he had known this morning when he left the house.

"Dad this isn't fair," Sara snivelled, pleading with her quivery voice. Frank stood fast; pulling the door closed half way as he stepped out into the hall.

"Do I make myself clear?" he asked her quietly, his hand gripping the door handle in anger as he thought about his daughter being violated by the fiend she supposedly loved. Sara snapped her head away from her father and ignored his question. "Do I make myself clear Sara?" he barked.

"Yes sir," she whispered through gritted teeth, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

"Good," Frank shot back as he pulled the door closed, slamming it to the frame.

The bang echoed through the mansion and Sara collapsed onto her bed, pushing her face into the feather pillow she clutched to herself. Her tears fell on the cotton pillowcase, staining the dark purple fabric so it turned black where it was wet. Black like her father's heart and black like the void that suddenly surrounded hers.


	9. Empty without You

Sara sat staring out of the window absent-minded. The class was silent as everyone busied himself or herself with a multiple choice test paper that they had been given to practice on. Sara's remained opened to the first page as she watched the grey clouds roll by in the sky. The wind brushed through the trees, shaking the orange leaves to the ground and swirling them into a mini torrent of rustling.

She was startled when a ball of paper hit her on the side of the head. She grabbed it and pulled it into her lap, posing with her pencil poised above the test paper as her teacher glanced up from his work to scan the room for cheaters. Happy that everything was fine his eyes fell upon his work once more and Sara's undid the paper ball quietly.

"R U Ok?" it simply said. Sara immediately knew it had come from her friend and looked over her shoulder to meet her gaze. She smiled and nodded, although it was forced, and her friend smiled back and resumed her test. Sara sighed as she returned her staring out of the window, the sound of a ticking clock filling her ears.

"Miss Tancredi," the teacher's voice resonated around the silent room. Students looked up in unison and their eyes fell on Sara. Her head spun towards the teacher with a questioning expression. "Is the test boring you?" he asked sarcastically causing a few childish boys in the back to snigger.

"No, I'm just feeling unwell," Sara lied. The teacher squinted at her suspiciously. As a member of the faculty he was used to all sort of excuses for leaving a test but as he studied Sara's pale complexion, sunken eyes and clammy forehead, he decided she was not the sort who would need to leave unnecessarily.

"Ok, gather your things and head to the medical room," he told her and Sara complied. She stuffed her folder into her shoulder bag and slid out of her desk, throwing the carrier over her shoulder. She gave her friend one last smile as she turned the door handle and slipped from view into the hall.

The halls of her high school were deserted. Every student and teacher was in a lesson; tucked away in a room that was an identical replica of the one Sara had just left. Her shoes squeaked on the tiled floor with each step as she made her way down the halls to the nurse's office. Sara knew she was fine physically but there was no cure for what she felt like inside. She was just going to the medical room for some time alone.

She rapped lightly on the frosted glass window and waited. "Come in," a cheerful voice called from behind the door and Sara pushed the door open and entered. The school nurse was old but not elderly, no doubt a deterrent to stop teenage boys from feigning illness, and she smiled constantly. Her tight premed grey hair sat on her head in a short, archaic style. "Sara Tancredi?" she sounded surprised to see the future doctor in her office.

Sara just smiled and clutched at her bag strap nervously. She hated when people used her full name because it reminded her of her father and who he was. And right now she especially hated to be reminded of her father. "What can I do for you?" the nurse asked, perching on the edge of her desk and interlocking her fingers together before resting them in her lap.

"I just needed to lie down for a while," she told her, wiping her forehead. The nurse looked her up and down, her mouth shifted sideways on her face as she thought about the request.

"Sure thing," she said with a smile. She reached behind her and fumbled with some square sheets of paper on the desk. Picking one up she signed it and handed it to Sara. Sara stared at the pass in her hand before folding it in half and thanking the nurse. The medical room was actually a few doors down from the nurse's office so Sara hurried to reach it before the bell rang for break time.

The door to the medical room creaked open. It wasn't used much, Sara could tell by the smell. It smelt like old books, musty and dank with the faintest traces of vomit hanging stale in the air. It had a window but some thin cream curtains that had been stained by dust and time repelled the light. The bed was messy and reminded Sara of a hospital bed, but it was inviting and she dropped her bag to the floor and slumped onto it.

There was no pillow and the harsh fabric of the sheeting cooled her face. It had no colour, being a plain white material, and it was covering a plastic waterproof mattress cover. It crinkled as she shifted her weight and closed her eyes against the bed. As soon as her eyelids met, the bell for break rang out across the halls and children erupted from the classrooms.

Sara's head pounded when the bell rang and her headache throbbed behind her eyes. She groaned lightly, poking a finger into one ear to block out the temporary invasion. It failed miserably and she admitted defeat, dropped her heavy arm back down on the mattress. A few second went past and her cell phone began to vibrate on silent mode in her bag, rattling against her pencil tin.

Sara's eyes flew open and she scrambled for her bag. Rummaging in the mess that was her class notes and lunch, she pulled out her phone and her heart skipped at the name on the display. A wide smiled spread across her face as she slid of the front to accept the call and pressed it eagerly to her ear. "Hey Michael," she breathed excitedly.

"Hey you," he cooed with relief, pressing his eyes closed. "I've been worried," he admitted quickly, his voice deep and soothing down the phone. Sara hugged at the phone, leaning her head into it as if it were Michael's hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. Talking to Michael after everything her father had told her a few nights ago was overwhelming. He knew what her father had said and was very understanding but was finding it hard not to call her every day just to hear her voice. Sara had neglected to mention the fight was about her age simply because it wasn't important to their relationship.

"Hey, Hey," Michael soothed as he heard her breathe hitch. "Please don't cry," he begged, as his soul was ripped apart.

"I miss you so much," Sara confessed as she wept in the empty room. It was a metaphor for how she felt right now. Cold, dark and empty. Michael's eyes pressed together, a single tear escaping them. He hated how she felt because of him.

"I miss you too Sara," he told her, his own voice cracking with concern. "God, I wish I was there to hold you right now," he admitted in frustration. He hated being away from her but Sara had assured him that after a few days her father would forget about his new rule and they could be together again. A few days was too long for Michael.

Sara grew warmer inside as Michael poured his heart out to her. "Sara I don't care who your father is, I need to see you today," he told her in firm desperation, his heart outweighing the risk his mind calculated.

Sara smiled as her tears ceased and she wiped her nose on a tissue she procured from a box on the tiny table inside the room. "At the park," she blurted quickly as the door creaked open. "I have to go," she breathed sadly. Michael groaned on the other end of the phone before hanging up. He couldn't say goodbye, it was too much like goodbye forever.

"Sara?" the nurse asked as she popped her head around the door to check on her. Sara wiped her face with the tissue once more but the tear had stained her cheeks. Sara thanked the poorly lit room that hid her crying from the nurse. "How are you feeling?"

Sara gave her a weak smile, taking in a large breath. "Better, thanks," she stood from the bed and hung her bag back over her shoulder. "I think I can go now," she told her as she walked towards the door. The nurse studied her face in the dark before resting a caring hand on her shoulder.

"Take the rest of the day off," she smiled giving her shoulder a light squeeze. Sara felt giddy with the excitement of seeing Michael without having to creep out of school as well. "I'll clear it with your teacher's," she finished.

Sara thanked her again and her eyes welled up in an emotional reaction caused by her earlier outburst. Luckily she managed to retain her tears and rushed through the busy halls towards the front doors. She pressed two flat palms to the metal hand plates on the large wooden doors and pushed them both together. They swung open and the outside wind cut into Sara's bones. She crossed her arms and buried her hands in the pocket of her hoodie. Taking her phone in one hand she started a text message.

"Meet me now xxx," it said. Send message to: Michael. Message Sent.


	10. Reunion

Sara arrived at the park quickly. If she had said she hadn't broke into a sprint a few times she would be lying. The open grass was even windier than the street, having few trees around to shield it from the speedy gusts. The grass was short beneath her feet, having recently been cut, but it still managed to ripple under each gust of wind. Sara strode confidently to where they met, under a willow tree whose branches draped across the ground.

When she pushed aside the hanging branches there was no Michael but at least the wind was gone. She stepped through the curtain of tree and flattened her windswept hair with both hands. The tree was next to a river and although it was windy outside, the water only slightly rippled under the weather's rage. A few ducks on the lake bobbed up and down for food under the surface as the turbulent weather churned up tasty morsels.

Her eyes were focused out across the lake as a gentle tap on her shoulder caused her to spin around with a startle. Michael pulled his hand back quickly, his expression apologising for scaring her. "Michael," she breathed and dived into his arms. Michael wrapped his strong arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. She was crushed to his chest as her emotion swept through her again and she began to cry.

"Hey," Michael soothed, stroking the auburn hair on her head and tucking it under his chin. "Don't cry," he implored, rocking her from side to side. Sara pulled her face from his shirt and he reluctantly let her go to hold her at arms length. He rested a finger under her chin and titled her tired eyes to his. "Don't cry," he repeated, brushing a tear away with his thumb.

Sara sniffed and her breath hitched as she obeyed his soft command. His hand moved to cup her cheek and she rubbed against it, welcoming the warmth of her cold skin. Her own hand came up to grip his and she turned her head to plant a soft kiss on his palm before meeting his eyes once more.

Just like her Michael was worn and tired. His usual demeanour was replaced by one of distain and his eyes were grey and hollow. His clothes were messy and unkempt and stubble from at least one day littered his jaw line. His green t-shirt had certainly been worn for more than one day and his jeans hung loose on his hips, exposing the dark blue of his boxers underneath. To hide it all, he was wearing a long black coat.

"Ok," she told him with a feeble smile. He pulled her into a hug once more, her hands snaking around under his coat to feel the warmth from his skin through his t-shirt. Michael pressed a soft kiss to her vanilla scented hair and rubbed her back lovingly.

They stood in each other's arms for what seemed like forever. The world around them seemed to disappear as they held each other, silently mending all the wounds that had been exposed over the last few days. "I've missed this," Michael hummed still holding her firmly to his chest.

"I hate my father," she spat into his shirt, the sound muffled slightly. Michael chuckled for the first time in three days and pulled Sara from his chest to flash her a smile. She returned the smile and her eyes ignited with the spark she was missing. Michael took her hand and led her to the huge curving trunk of the tree.

Taking a seat on the soft ground he leant back into the hard bark and pulled her down next to him. He wrapped a strong arm around her and pulled her closer. Sara leant against his chest, her tiny hand laying flat against his t-shirt, exciting his skin. Michael ran a thumb lazily up and down the fabric of her hoodie, bumping over a band logo with each stroke.

"What are we going to do?" she sighed, her stare fixed blankly on a twig that lay on the ground. Michael sighed to, not knowing what to tell her. He couldn't promise that everything would be ok and he didn't want to promise something that he would only have to break in the future. Sara tilted her head up and Michael titled his down until their eyes met once more.

Hazel met green blue in a choreographed dance of passion, each eye flickering slightly in time with invisible music. Sara reached up and rubbed Michael's cheek, her delicately soft skin itching on his prickly facial hair. As she rolled his ear lobe between her thumb and finger he closed the gap between them, taking her own face in his hands.

Sara met his lips hungrily, pressing harder against his mouth with each kiss. Michael shifted their bodies and lowered Sara to the ground, lips still connected and tongues dancing frantically. Michael left her mouth and began trailing wet kisses around her face to her ear lobe. Sara's head rolled back and to the side as he licked each portion of skin before setting his lips to the skin once more.

Gripping his head Sara scratched at his scalp, pulling him closer. His stubble grazed at her skin as Michael dragged his lips down her neck, causing her stomach to tingle and her breathing to become ragged. He recaptured her lips in his and laced his long fingers in her red hair that spilled across the dirt. The willow's branches clattered together, a few yellowy leaves rusting around them.

Michael ran his hands up her body and tugged at the zip that held her hoodie closed. Sara let out a gasp as the zip slid down slowly and the cold air invaded the warmth inside. The two sides of the thick jumper fell to the ground on either side of Sara, her hairs standing on end from the sudden rush of cool air. Michael brushed his hands back up over her shirt, the thin material not hiding her nipples as they peeked to attention.

Her top was a light grey marl colour and it was void of any design or pattern. Michael broke the kiss and his eyes ran over her presence as he panted hard. He watched Sara's chest heave up and down as she too fought for breath, her hardened nipples easily noticeable through her shirt. Her shirt had ridden up exposing the milky white skin of her stomach. It was covered in tiny light hairs that prickled to attention in the space between them.

"Michael?" Sara asked him when he seemed frozen in his open mouthed stare. She reached to one of his hands next to her hip and gently rubbed her thumb over his knuckles, brining him back to her. He quickly gulped and smiled at her through sharp inhalations.

"You're so beautiful," he told her in a murmur of awe, which made her blush. Sara pressed a hand to his chest and pushed him backwards. He shot her a confused look before she knelt before him and pushed his coat off his shoulders. It landed in a heap behind him and he fell back onto it as Sara lunged into another kiss.

He cupped her face in his hands as she crawled up over his body, her tiny frame hovering above his masculine one. Michael's hands left her face and trailed down her sides until they came to rest on her hips. Sara wiggled above him and giggled against his lips as his hands tickled her sides. Michael's smiled into her mouth and gripped at her waist, pulling it flush to his.

Sara let out a moan as their bodies met, her lying on him and his strong hands holding her tight. Sara could fell his growing arousal pressed against her stomach through his jeans and it thrilled her further. She dove her tongue into his mouth impatiently, brushing it against his teeth and running its tip along the roof of his mouth. He tasted indescribable and his body felt amazing against hers as she wiggled further down it.

Michael's hands roamed up and briefly around the front of her body to stroke the sides of her breasts discreetly. Sara pushed her eager nipples into his chest in response to his touch and Michael bucked his hips up against hers. Sara laughed at his antics and his own laughter rumbled through both of them as they lay together.

Michael sat up once more, and Sara's knees fell to either side of his hips so she was straddling him. He broke the kiss and their eyes fluttered open to meet each other's again. Sara rested her soft hands on his shoulders and he pushed his under the back on her top, caressing her downy back. "I hate to bring up the burden of self control but…"

"I know," she cut him off, resting her forehead against his. Michael clenched his jaw as his hands continued to roam down her back and pushed their way into her jeans to grope her pleasantly rounded behind. His eyes fell closed and an audacious smile spread across his face. "Michael," Sara scolded playfully, pulling his hands from her pants.

"Aww, no fun," he grinned at her, pulling her into another affectionate kiss. This one was slower, meant to last and they savoured every second of it. They knew they would have to leave soon even thought neither wanted to. Michael sucked in a breath of much needed air as they parted, his eyes rolling back to face her. She simply smiled. "You're amazing," he told her, brushing a few strands of her red locks behind hr ear.

Sara didn't reply but instead just stared into his loving gaze. She drank it in, feeling warm and wanted for the first time. Michael was amazing too and it was because of him that she was amazing. He had done this too her and there was no one, not even her father, who could take what they had away from them.


	11. Realisation

It had just begun to get dark when Sara turned her key in the lock silently. The heavy panel door opened effortlessly and she clicked it shut behind her. She stood, her back pressed against the front door, with her hands resting behind her back, fingers splayed across the wood. Her body froze when she was startled by a noise. Her breath hitched and her body flushed with fear before she realised it was the sounding of the hour on her father's old grandfather clock in the marble lobby.

Sara gave herself a grin and rested a shaky hand to her chest. "Relax," she told herself with a whisper. This time she was going to make sure the maid from hell didn't know she was late home. She pushed herself from the door and tip toed across the black and white chequered flooring, her converse rubbing with a squeak. Sara froze, a grimace on her face as she bent over to untie her laces and remove the offending garments.

"Where have you been?" A voice called from the lounge. Sara spun to face the room; the only room in the house where by if you were sneaking in you'd get caught. The lights were out, the room only illuminated by the flicker of the fire. Real logs crackled and sparks flew as the wood cracked and burned on the open place. A large, deep blue high back armchair sat facing the fire, the back of it towards Sara. It had finely crafted mahogany legs and trim and although Sara couldn't see him, she knew her father was sitting there.

"Daddy," she breathed, shocked by his presence. "Hi," she said feeling watched and violated. A heavy arm moved to rest on the arm of the chair, lightly tanned skin exposed by a messily rolled up sleeve. Frank's hand titled in the light and Sara could see a superiorly carved glass with a brown liquid rolling around it in.

"Where have you been?" he repeated, moving the glass to his lips and drinking half the contents with a faked sigh of content. Frank had never been a big drinker and the whiskey burned as it flowed down his throat, settling in a hot heap inside his stomach. His arm fell back down, whiskey laden glass in hand, and rested on the arm once more.

"At school. Studying with Janet," Sara told him confidently. Frank had never met Janet but had met her parents at a fundraiser not that long ago. They were wealthy like the Tancredi's but enjoyed flaunting it much more. Sara didn't actually like Janet, in fact she found her selfish and conceited, but she made for a good alibi.

Her father let out a masculine giggle, his glass shaking and the whiskey sloshing up the sides. He raised the glass to his lips once again and finished the drink with another sigh of disgust. Placing the glass upon the table next to him, he poured another. Sara had never known her father to drink whiskey before. He had always said it was for a severe occasion.

"Dad, are you ok?" she queried taking a few paces towards the back of the chair. Frank ran his hand over his face and then urged his aged knees to lift his tired body to its feet. He stood to the side of the fireplace, one arm resting on the surround while he pressed the glass in the other to his waistline.

He turned his head and his tired eyes meet hers. "You're a bad liar Sara," he told her before resuming his stare into the fire. Sara took another step forward and crossed the threshold under the big white archway into the lounge. Her shoes stopped squeaking on the stone as her feet met the old, creaking wooden flooring. "Stay there," he commanded her with a wave of his whiskey glass.

Sara halted, her face wrinkling with question and confusion. It was true; she was a bad liar. She had been with Michael and her father could smell it a mile off. He turned his head to her again, dragging the heavy bulk sideways with effort. "You were with him," he started, taking a swig of his drink.

"I…" Sara began in protest but he cut her off.

"Dammit Sara don't lie to me!" he bellowed into the dark room. Sara squeezed her eyes shut and she jumped back a pace. Her father was scary when he was angry but she had no idea why he was so angry that she was happy. Frank saw her wide-eyed expression and sighed, turning from her again and rubbing his temple with a rough hand.

"I'm sorry," Sara whispered, her eyes burning with tears. Her heart beat in her chest like a tribe's drum echoing in the night. It vibrated through her entire being, sending adrenaline rushing through her veins. Her cheeks flushed pink and her eyes dilated, her hazel orbs resembling some kind of dirty swimming pool. She sniffed, wiping her eyes quickly with her sleeve. It smelt like Michael and she lingered on the scent before staring back at her father. "I'm sorry," she repeated, her tone angry and livid.

Frank didn't look at her. Instead he just stood, staring into the flames than danced before him, warming his face. The flames represented his daughter, full of life and zest until a key element was removed and she would fade away. Frank pushed himself from the wall, taking a staggered step towards Sara who dropped her gaze from his.

"I don't want you seeing him," he spat through ground teeth at her. His vision was slightly blurry and his speech slurred, excess saliva lurking in the corner of his mouth.

"Dad, I am sixteen years old. Nearly seventeen," she told him in a shaky but stern voice. He swung his wobbly head towards her and narrowed her eyes.

"Have you slept with him?" he choked the words out not thinking clearly in his worsening state. Sara stared at him, mouth opened with shock and horror.

"Is this what this is about?" she twitched her head as she laughed out her reply sarcastically. Frank just took another swig of his burnt orange liquid looking at her with disgust. "No dad, I haven't slept with him," she retorted. "Just because I am young doesn't make me stupid."

Frank stared at her, the foul smell of the whiskey filling his nostrils on every breath he exhaled. At that moment he was proud of Sara. Proud to call Sara his daughter, proud to have raised her single handed and proud she turned out ok. More than ok. She hadn't turned out like him and he was proud of it. Even though he felt like taking her in his arms and letting her finally live her life, he couldn't let her go just yet.

"Michael cares for me dad, he would never hurt me," her words shook him from his thoughts. His brows pulled together and he cocked his head at her, his grip tightening around the glass in his hand.

"Michael?" he said in a low grumble, his gaze dropping to the floor. "The guy from the accident?" he asked astounded by the man's sheer audacity after everything he did to save his bank balance that day. Frank's blood boiled beneath his skin as Sara shifted nervously.

Sara swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly full of saliva and her stomach churning its contents like a choppy sea, making her feel nauseous. Sara's silence further angered her father who stared at her intensely, taking in her posture and willingness to avoid his stare. "It is him, isn't it?" he chuckled sadistically; remembering the way Michael had looked at his daughter, his hungry eyes raping her virginal body in his presence. "Unbelievable!" he roared, spinning and sending his glass into the fire.

The sound of glass smashing made Sara gasp and her hand shot up to cover her mouth. It sounded like icicles swaying in the wind as his connected with the stone fireplace. The whiskey spilled from its shattered shell and spilled into the open flames, fuelling the rage that burned there. Frank snorted like an angry bull as he waved a stiff finger at Sara.

"If you ever go near him again…" he growled, sucking in a ragged breath and clenching his hands, his fingernails digging into his palms. Sara couldn't listen to his onslaught anymore and she twisted on the dusty floor boards and raced through the wide lobby and up the cold marble stairs. Frank gave chase, halting at the base of the stairs. "I mean it young lady!" he called after her as Sara slammed her door closed.

She sunk against the door as her cries escaped her. Hugging her knees to her chest she rocked back and forth on her thick, creamy carpet and grizzled with her forehead on her knees. If Sara didn't have her father in this world she had no one but the man she loved. Sara quickly reached behind her and twisted the lock on her door, dived into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone.

The phone pressed to her ear as her hand shook and she struggled to regain her composure. "Hello?" the voice on the other end questioned, raising the tone at the end of the word.

"Michael," she burst into tears at the sound of his voice and poured her sorrow into the rest of her words.


	12. Wish You were Here M

Michael heard Sara smile down the phone accompanied by a small laugh. Her voice had been scared, shaky and childlike but his soothing masculine drone had made her perk up and forget her father. She was scared, Michael got that, but why he didn't know. All he knew was Sara and Governor Tancredi seemed to be fighting an awful lot nowadays, mainly because of him.

"I could meet your father if you'd like," Michael offered down the phone line. He sat in his room on the edge of his bed, the dark grey cordless receiver pressed to his head longing to be close to her. His clothes were the same as earlier, albeit slightly more ruffled and dirty than when he put them on this morning. The scent of vanilla lingered on his shirt, reminding him of Sara.

"No thank you," Sara laughed. "But thanks for offering," she said sincerely, leaning into the phone. Sara sighed as a short silence fell between them. Sara heard a commotion on the end of the phone accompanied by some heaving panting on Michael's part. She grinned. "What are you doing?" she enquired in a murmur, pressing her lips closer to the mouthpiece, her eyes flicking towards the door in case her father tried to get in.

"Taking my shirt off," he replied innocently, his own face growing wide with a wry grin. Michael's panting continued as he pushed himself back onto his bed and rested his half naked bulk against the headboard. The cool air of his room swept over his skin and his hairs prickled and his nipples hardened.

"Really?" Sara teased excitedly, her voice still low and secretive. Absently she climbed onto her own bed and laid her head back on her puffed pillow.

"Really," Michael sighed, his voice like a drizzle of honey down the phone line. Sara's body reacted to him like a well-trained puppy, coming to life as she wiggled on her bed. Michael gulped as he heard the zip of her hoodie slide open painfully slowly. He pressed his eyes closed, imagining her beauty spread out before him while his legs twitched on his bed covers.

Sara let out a moan of pleasure at his flirtatious remark that sent Michael's body racing. His heart pounded faster, his blood pumped harder and his groin tingled. Michael rested a sweaty palm on his abdomen, rubbing his soft fingertip over his line of hair that grew up from his pubic area. "Do that again," he commanded her with a whisper, his breath hardly allowing him to construct the words clearly.

Sara smiled and bit down on her bottom lip enjoying his helpless pleading. Complying she let out a soft moan as she rubbed her tiny hands over her own stomach and down further, exciting her erotic centre when she brushed the material of her underwear against her clitoris. Sara arched her back off the bed and pushed her hips into her hand, gasping down the phone.

Her groan was enough to send Michael over the edge and he snaked his hand under his waistband and into his boxers. He closed his eyes, imagining her dainty figure writing under his gaze, touching herself with one hand while the other clasped at the bed sheets. Michael wrapped his big hand around his straining erection and stroked it gently, wanting the feeling to last as long as possible.

"Sara," he breathed heavily, licking his lips as his image of her undressed itself. "What are you doing?" he said hoarsely, his hand dragging itself lightly up his length hardening it further.

Sara discarded her hoodie, sending it to the floor with a silent fall. She brushed her hands lightly across her breasts, teasing her nipples into hot peaks beneath her clothes. She breathed into the phone, hot air condensing on the mouthpiece. "I'm…" she staggered as images of Michael invaded her mind. "I'm imagining you," she said drunkly, swallowing hard as the Michael in her mind, already topless, tore his belt from his jeans.

Michael thrust gently into his hand, swallowing his own excess saliva that had formed in his mouth. "And I'm touching myself," she blurted out in a whine that Michael found intensely erotic. He gripped his throbbing member harder, fighting back the urge to spill his seed at her words.

"Where?" he panted faster as his pace increased. His hand was hot on his already boiling penis but he welcomed the burning sensation. His sweaty palm mimicked the soft, wet core of Sara as he drove himself harder into his closed grip. Sara let out a whimper as she popped the button on her pants, pushing her hand into her underwear.

"Down…" Sara trailed off as she spread her slick juices up and down her neatly trimmed region with a practised finger.

"Down where?" Michael strained to ask. Her incoherent words told him exactly where her hand was but he wanted to hear it from her own lips. He needed to hear her say it. "Tell me Sara," he begged when he was met with nothing but her soft moaning.

"I'm so wet," she breathed, her quivering voice barely audible. Michael rested the phone on his shoulder, tilting his head to hold it there while he freed his erection with the other hand and pressed the base of his member into his groin. The other hand busily pulled outwards, wrapping his tight skin over the sensitive end that oozed with precum.

"God Sara…" he sighed through gritted teeth. The Sara in his mind was naked and running her fine fingers down her flat, milky stomach towards her hot aching core. Her eyes were pressed tightly closed, her teeth bruising her lip where they bit at it with yearning and she was unashamed of him watching. "I can see you," his eyelids twitched as he watched her saintly display imprint itself on them.

"My hand is yours," Sara whispered seductively as her hand continued to caress the nub of nerves between her legs. Her thigh clenched shut on her hand as she fought back her release. "Michael," she exhaled in response to his low grunts that came down the phone line and invaded her ear sexily.

Michael loved the way she said his name, especially when she was thinking about him touching her. He slowed the pace of his own bliss, needing to hold out until her heard her succumb to her desires. "I'm pushing a finger into you," he writhed on his bed as he said it, rubbing his erection at the base gently.

Sara run her hand down the curve on her pubic region, her finger collecting her hot juices as they slipped down further. With a gasp, she pushed a soaking finger into her scorching tunnel, clenching her muscles around her finger as she did so.

"You like that?" Michael said in response to a long jovial sigh that absconded Sara's lips. Her breathing had increased and her mouth hung open, her lips moist from where she had been sucking and licking on them with cravings for her imaginary Michael.

"Yes," she hissed with a squeak as she ran her delicate touch over her g-spot. Michael regained his hold on his pulsating organ, twisting his wrist each time he reached the tip of it to excite his nerve endings.

"Yeah…" he said, not sure if it was a question or a comment as his hand moved quicker and his hips thrust up into his hand. "How about two inside you?" he pushed, intent on hearing her orgasm first.

Sara inserted another finger into her tender essence, stretching with a wince of satisfaction as she resumed the pace she found most erotic. "Oh my god Michael," she bucked her hips against her hand as she plunged her fingers deep inside of herself.

"I want to hear you come Sara," he told her in a husky voice. "Come for me Sara," he pushed his own body further than it had ever been, struggling to hold in his release as she moaned and hummed his name on every other breath.

Sara's hands plagued her hot centre until the image of Michael on her mind disappeared behind a white light and she felt her body shake. "I'm coming," she said of a staggered breath as her hand shot out beside her and she gripped the edge of her bed tightly. Her moaning was muffled when she rolled her head sideways and pushed her face into her pillow.

At the same time Michael's body underwent the same torturous reckless abandon. He hissed and sucked in air as he stroked harder and faster on his member, his other hand still pressed firmly into his abdomen. The second he heard her orgasm hit he released the pressure on the base of his penis and his own orgasm took him over like a tsunami. He went blind and all he could hear was Sara's muffled cries as he ejaculated across heaving stomach.

They both lay content, expelling long, quick breathes while they waited for the world to stop spinning around them. Sara was the first to return, letting out a satisfied hum through a broad smile. Michael knew she was smiling and slumped further into his pillows, plucking a tissue from his bedside table and wiping his fluid from his body.

"Wow," Sara giggled, slightly embarrassed by her previous actions.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Michael purred, returning his flaccid penis to its home in his boxers.

"You're welcome," Sara told him, anticipating his next words. Then that silence fell between them once more like the time between having sex for the first time and then talking about it. Sara pulled her sopping underwear back into position and crossed her legs, her core still pulsating weakly.

"I wish I was really there," Michael said solemnly as he picked up the receiver again and almost cuddled it to his head. "I want to see you…" he cut off his own words, slightly embarrassed to tell her. His voice was low and vibrated of her every fibre.

Sara blushed at his remark, even though he couldn't see her. "You will," she cooed quietly with another coy smile, knowing exactly what he meant. Michael's heart skipped a beat as he growled low in his chest. Sara sent him to places he never wanted to come back from. In the real world, there was just too much in their way. A bang at his dorm door made him recoil on his bed and tense up defensively.

"I have to go," he told her sadly with a pouted lip as his dorm friends pounded on his door.

"Ok. I'll talk soon," she told him with a questioning tone.

"Most definitely," he nodded. "Goodbye Sara," he said and blew a kiss down the phone line. Sara heard the line go dead and held her hand to catch Michael's kiss before dropping her closed hand to her heart with a tingling sigh.


	13. Two Entities

Michael awoke with a surprise. His alarm had been screeching into the room for almost five minutes and finally the banging on his door woke him from his slumber. "Hey Mike, turn that damn thing off!" one of his dorm mates called, pounding the door furiously. Michael leant over his crumples sheets and pressed the switch on his alarm clock, flopping back onto his sheet with a sigh.

He thought of Sara. He always thought of Sara. She was the last thing he thought about at night and the first thing he thought of in the mornings. Like a phantom, she invaded his every dream, torturing his mind and body with her delicate touch and suggestive words. Her smile was the cherry on the cake, the pièce de résistance in his life. The way her lips curled around her perfect teeth, moist from her seductive licking and pouting, sent him to the edge.

Michael laid a heavy arm across his eyes, blocking out the thin rays of sunlight that fought their way into his basement abode. He scratched at his face with his other hand, exciting the follicles of his stubbly face to stand to attention. Michael rubbed a flat palm against his growth, noting that he should shave soon.

Rolling his head to one side but not removing his arm too much, he slid a glance at the clock. Red digital numbers flashed before him from his alarm clock face. It was eight thirty and Michael was late for class. His eyes widened and he sprung from his mattress, sprinting to his bathroom in his dark blue boxers, his bare feet slapping on the tiled floor.

He hurriedly grabbed his toothbrush, pushed it roughly under the running tap and applied a generous dollop of toothpaste to the bristles. He shoved the brush into his mouth, quickly whisking the item around his teeth like some kind of miniature buffer. All the while he kept a watchful eye on his watch, cursing himself for oversleeping. The large leather wristband of his Fossil watch was worn and rugged looking, authenticity brought straight from the store, and the large square chrome rimmed face counted down the seconds in gothic style numbers.

Spitting his last mouthful of rinsed minty water into the basin, he grabbed a hand towel on his exit, wiping his mouth and throwing it to the bed. Michael rushed to his wardrobe, pulled out some semi casual black pants and threw them on, zipping up the fly and fastening his leather belt as he picked a shirt. His eyes scanned the hanging garments for a split second before he yank a freshly ironed pale pink long sleeve shirt from its hanger.

Michael's stomach rumbled in protest as he whizzed past his kitchenette and out of his door, slamming it with a thud. He thundered up the stairs, his heavy treaded shoes pounding the wooden floor loudly as he pulled his bulk up with the help of the handrail. He jumped three steps at a time, gripping a grey and black rucksack thrown loosely over one shoulder. He panted as he sprinted out of the front door and crushed his body against his car with a forced halt.

He pulled the handle out and threw his bag over the headrest into the back of his car. He pulled his keys from his pocket, slammed the door behind him as he sunk into the interior and started the engine. One last glance at his watch told him he was now twenty minutes late. It was eight forty five and Michael slammed his fist into the steering wheel as he was forced to break at school time traffic.

Square yellow and black buses littered the road, all heading for the same direction. Michael growled in frustration as the bus in front of him indicated to stop by the local high school. He lecture had been moved to another campus because of personal reasons with the professor so Michael had no choice but to drive. He hated this time of day for driving because the majority of drivers were soccer moms with tanks or the dreaded school buses.

"Come on!" He edged forward behind the bus, on coming traffic stopping his overtaking manoeuvre. His foot hovered above the accelerator but shied away each time a car rushed past him and the bus. Gripping the wheel with white knuckles, Michael glanced at his watch again. Eight fifty. He might as well of not bothered getting out of bed.

As Michael scanned the crowds of children for any sign of the bus finally being empty he laid his eyes up the familiar auburn locks of Sara. She stepped from the bus, smiles and giggles with her friends, a fully laden satchel thrown over one shoulder. "Sara?" he quizzed to himself in the silent car. His heart wrenched when he realised she had lied to him. She wasn't eighteen or in college. She hadn't been at the library that day for revision; she was studying for current work.

Michael's mouth hung open and he stared, disbelieving his eyes. He blinked a few times, double taking her image as she breezed up the large stone steps and into the building. A high pitched bell rang out, signifying the start of lessons, echoing out onto the street. Michael felt crushed and cheated. Their entire relationship had so far been built on a lie that could have potentially been disastrous.

Anticipation crept through his body as all of his hairs stood on end, prickling as if someone had walked over his grave. Michael swallowed, returning his eyes dead ahead of him into the void where the bus had been. Horns beeped and engines revved behind him, shaking him from his delusion. Michael's car lurched forward as he stepped on the gas, the whole vision he has just seen replaying through his mind in slow motion.

What was he going to do now? Sara was a minor and he wasn't. She was the governor's daughter and he was just a struggling student driving a two door car with a huge dent in the rear metal bumper. Once he passed the busiest traffic he had to pull over. Indicating to stop his body wobbled as his front tyre mounted the high curb with a bang.

Michael pulled the key from the ignition and planted it on the passenger seat with a shaky hand. He caught a glimpse of himself in the rear view mirror and frowned. His complexion was ill, void of all colour and his face lacked emotion. His palms were sweaty and his eyes were dilated, huge like saucers upon his face. Michael slumped back in his seat, running a shaky hand over his growing hair. Exhaling hard he tried to focus on his reflection.

"What are you doing?" he asked it with a puzzled expression, still unable to believe what he had just seen with his own lying eyes. "Sara can't be that young, can she?" he swung his head to look out of his side window. His insides fought the battle of good vs. evil within his body as he contemplated his options. His inner Devil told him to go, take her and make her his. It was what they both wanted after all. His inner Angel fought back hard, his guilty conscious and caring nature erasing his lusty thoughts and replacing her beautiful image with that of a child like her.

Michael shook his head as if the remove the two entities from his mind. He threw two clenched fists up to punch his forehead, screaming in a low primitive rumble that vibrated and rocked the entire car. One last time he glanced at his watch. One large reflective hand pointed to the notch representing two while the other slowly crept past the nine. Michael sighed, resting his head against the headrest on his chair. There was no point to him going now.

"Dammit," he whispered pressing his eyes closed tightly. It was not for his missed lesson but for his indecision in a life changing matter, a matter that would end his friendship with Sara forever.


	14. No Reasoning

Sara was distracted, as usual, and tapped her blunt pencil against her ruled paper. The class wasn't silent but her mind was other places, thinking about other things, other people. Her head rested on her palm, propped up by her elbow and her eyes flickered between her blank page and the clock. It was almost time to go home, back under house arrest until next time her father left her alone to go attend some work related venue.

Sara stopped as her head swung back to face her paper. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw a flash of pink and felt the familiar feeling of being watched. She did not feel uncomfortable, just watched. She turned her head, her hair spilling into the void on the page and her eyes focus on Michael. He was leaning against his car, arms crossed and his pink, rolled up sleeves revealing his darkened skin.

He looked tired and drowsy, like he had been drinking all day. His facial hair didn't help him look any fresher but his attire covered it up well. His long legs were crossed at the ankle, and he kept glancing at his watch. Sara erupted inside with joy. She hadn't seen him for a while and there was only so much you could show a person over the phone.

She watched as he shifted his weight, using his big hands to lever himself from the car and lower his back to the hard metal once more. He run a hand up each arm, pushing the roughly rolled cuffs of his shirt over his elbows before placing both hands into his pockets. His gaze dropped to his feet as he shuffled his foot across the pavement.

Sara shot another glance at the clock as it neared the bell. The bell was automated, ringing at specific times of the day based on what time it was set. More often than not it was useless relying on your own watch to tell the time in school because it would never be set the same as the school's time. School time and real life were totally different.

When the clock inched closer to the hour Sara began packing her bag quietly. She didn't want to draw attention to herself or she would get a detention for such an act. Her friend shot her a questioning glance as she looked up from her work, a girl sitting next to her talking away into unheard ears. Sara rolled her eyes out the window without moving her head and her friend followed her gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw Michael, giving Sara a playfully jealous look.

Sara grinned wide, her happiness escaping on her face. The bell suddenly rattled through the classroom and chairs shuffled across the flooring as the teacher shouted the homework assignment over the noise. Every student started packing their bags away as Sara rushed past them and into the empty corridors. Within minutes the silence would be broken with talking and the rebounding noise of slamming lockers.

Sara's feet couldn't grip the poorly polished floor quick enough as she rounded a corner, her arms flying out to help her keep her balance. Her hair hung half loose and curly, bouncing on her shoulders each time she leapt into her next step. Pushing the heavy doors to the front of the school, Sara managed the open one with a loud clonk from the lock.

She paused briefly on the top step, her gaze falling to Michael as he stood waiting. He heard the commotion and their eyes met as he lifted his head to the door. Sara was there, wearing a broad smile, her eyes alight with joy. Suddenly he felt a numb, his hands balling into loose fists in his pockets as he fidgeted under her stare.

She skipped down the steps and up to him, slightly out of breath from her rushing. Sara held out her arms as she approached him, ready to take his lips in a searing kiss that would leave them both more satisfied than they could ever have been. Michael took his hands from his pockets and caught hers mid way as they began to snake around his neck, pulling them down but not allowing them to touch his body. As she leant in for the kiss, he pulled away, scanning the school yard for prying eyes.

"Michael?" she questioned and he released her hands and took her good feelings with his icy touch. "Are you ok?" she asked, puzzled by his sudden reluctance to enjoy their company. She searched his face for an answer when his lips failed to meet her request. His eyes were red and puffy and streaks stained his face from tears. She took a step towards him and brought her hand to his face.

Michael turned his head away, physically moving from her touch. Sara's hand froze millimetres from his cheek, her heat radiating his numbness. Michael swallowed hard, his mouth dry and uncooperative with his request. His eyes looked anywhere but at her and slowly she pulled her hand back, her face filled with worry. "What's wrong?" she demanded, cocking her head slightly.

Michael slid out from between her and the car and made his way around the front of the car. The school doors erupted and teenagers tumbled from the establishment, squeals of joy and laughter filling the air. Out of nowhere two buses appeared and filled with kids, their windows already open in readiness for the mass of bodies.

"Get in," he told her in a low voice, reaching for his own handle and pulling the door open. He disappeared into the car and his door shut behind him. Sara was frozen. She couldn't move. She hadn't realised, through all her joys, where she was until the doors had exploded with her peers. The fear in Michael's stinging eyes, the way he rejected her contact and why he was here hit her like a truck. He knew.

Sara slowly opened the door and fell into the seat, exhaling hard. Michael started the engine and the tyres screeched as the car left the curb. Sara felt scared. She felt like she had been caught sneaking out by her dad but for once she felt guilt. She felt remorse and wanted to make it all right. Michael didn't look at her or talk to her as they left the area. "Where are we going?" she asked in a shaky voice.

Michael shifted gears and the car slowed down as they turned a corner. He didn't answer her and his face was unreadable. Sara gripped at the door handle, her fingers tingling when the blood stopped flowing to their tips. She nervously brushed her hair from her face and scanned the surroundings. They were on a quiet street with very little cars parked on the curbs and ahead of them was the park.

"Michael…" Sara began turning to him once more but she was cut off.

"I don't know Sara!" he shouted slamming his foot on the break. Sara held on tighter as the car slid to a stop in the middle of the street. Its tail end wiggled in the road before it straightened up again, lurching its contents forward. His hands gripped the wheel and his arms locked straight, stopping him from hitting the window screen. "I don't know," he breathed lowering his head.

"Michael, I'm sorry," Sara offered. She couldn't imagine how she had made him feel and how he was feeling right now. His whole world was crumbling before him and all he could do was watch. He pressed his eyes closed at her words, placing a large paw to his brow to hide his tears that threatened to fall.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he pleaded, turning to her with wide eyes and a cracking voice. Sara lowered her head, fiddling with her hands in her lap.

"Would you have wanted to know me if you knew?" she asked, avoiding his question with another. Michael sat open mouthed while he thought. What would he of done if he had known? While he believed Sara was eighteen, they could have been happy. Beyond happy. They could have been elated. Michael had never felt this way about anyone in his entire life. Sadly he turned away from her again, staring at the badge in the centre of his wheel.

Sara took his silence as a no. She shifted in her seat so her body was facing him. "It's only four years Michael," she told him bluntly. "And I'm seventeen soon," she said resting her hand on the back of the seat. Michael let out a chilling laugh at her words, sending her crashing back down into the darkness of an empty heart.

"That's not the point," he said sadly, turning his head to her again. "I could have got into so much trouble," he told her thinking with his head rather then his heart.

"We didn't do anything illegal Michael," she told him a little annoyed. "We are just two people who like each other," she pulled at a strand of thread on his headrest, her hand inches from the back of his neck.

Michael dug his nails into the steering wheel as he breathed in hard, his mind furious with thought. Technically she was right, they hadn't done anything illegal. Yet. Michael knew his limits and his boundaries were seriously compromised when it come to Sara. He had proved that last night when she had called him. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips before he spoke.

"Sara," he began, turning to her, dropping his hands from the steering wheel to his lap. "I am…" he stuttered, her expression eager for his words to fill the space between them. "I can't stop thinking about you," his eyes met hers but the dark sadness remained. "And it eats me up inside to know that you lied to me," Sara's eyes welled with tears and she brushed a shaky hand across her eyelids. "You're right, four years is just that but you are…" she cut off his speech with an angered quip.

"Don't you dare call me a child," she said through gritted teeth. "I am so fed up with my father treating me like a baby, not letting me grow up and live my life. I can't take that from you as well Michael." Michael watched her shaking hands clench with anger and her gentle eyes dissolve away into nothing. "I am not a child anymore," she told him frankly.

Michael stared at her for a long time as she cried. They both knew what was coming but neither wanted to be the first person to initiate it and turn out the bad guy in the never ending love story. Her sobs filled the car and Michael cried too, a few tears falling and being absorbed by his pants. "We can't do this anymore," he finally said with a broken voice full of hurt, sorrow and apologies.

Sara's body shook when more tears fell and it took all Michael had not to reach out and take her in his arms to sooth her pain. Sara half expected him too, like he had done so many times before but when it didn't come she yanked on the door handle and got out of his car. "Sara…" Michael called, diving into her seat as she slammed the door behind her and began to walk off in the direction they had come.

Michael leant back into his seat and cried. His life was ruined but he felt guiltier about ruining Sara's. He had no doubt she was his true love but fear outweighed his heart and plagued his being.

"What have I done?" he sighed, slamming the back of his head into the headrest and squeezing his eyes shut tightly.


	15. I Want

Sara had never seen her father happier then the moment she told him Michael had broke up with her. Frank tried to hide his joy but it shone from his being like a lighthouse illuminated in the night. At that moment, when he had what he had wanted for weeks, Frank Tancredi felt broken inside. The hurt and pain on his daughter's beautiful face tore him open. He had only ever seen it once before, when he had done the exact same thing to a beautiful young woman not dissimilar to Sara, and he had married her and they were happy.

Frank reached out a hand to Sara's juddering shoulders as she cried, his short stubby fingers stroking the soft material of her clothes slowly. There was an uncomfortable silence between them, neither knowing what to say to the other to make it right. Frank refused to give in and offer her what she wanted. He would not approve of a man loving his baby, as much as he tried. I just couldn't.

The age-old saying crossed Frank's mind and slipped through his lips as he comforted Sara. "I told you this would happen," he soothed pulling her into him in a protective hug. Sara grabbed at his jacket, burying her face into the expensive tailored material.

"I love him Dad," she sobbed, her tears soaking the material she clutched between her shaking hands. Frank tucked her head under his chin and gave her squeeze. Support was what she needed right now, even if Frank's anger threatened to erupt at her words. The fact that she still referred to Michael in the present tense didn't help him suppress it much either.

"Sara," he pulled back to look into her watery hazel eyes. "You can't keep pining for a guy who will never be good enough for you," he offered her a small smile. She sniffed and licked some salty tears from her lips, her breath hitching. "You'll meet someone else, your own age…" he emphasised with wide eyes and raised eyebrows.

Sara stared at him silently, his obvious attempts at subtlety wasted on her. "Thanks Dad," she flashed him a forced smile and wiped her face with her sleeve. "I think I'll go do some homework," she told him, moving out of his embrace and towards the vast staircase. Frank lowered his head as she went, silently congratulating himself for a victory that felt more like a defeat. He had won but Sara was miserable.

"Sara," he called softly as the ground beneath her feet changed from soft to hard on the lobby floor. Sara spun around slowly to face him with an expression of question. Frank gave her a smile and a nod. "Why don't you and your friend go out tonight? I'm sure there is a nice get together somewhere," he waved an unknowing hand and his face frowned him thought.

"A party?" Sara laughed weakly. Frank's eyes lit up and he pointed a crooked finger her way with a grin.

"Yes! A party," he said jokingly. "Go to a party, meet some new friends from school. You never know, you might meet a boy," he wigged an eyebrow and gave her a wink. Sara puffed out a short giggle.

"You're letting me go to a party?" she asked once more in a suspicious tone. Frank nodded and placed his hands in his pockets. His face was bright albeit weathered and he could hardly believe himself for what he had just said. Reluctantly he nodded again when Sara eyes narrowed and she scanned his face for an sign of a trap.

"Just get it organised, before I change my mind," he told her sternly. Sara turned and pounded up the stairs as fast as she could, bursting into her room and booting up her laptop. The climb had left her out of breath and for a small second she forgot all about Michael. She warmed inside and the numbness was gone. She plopped into her chair, wiping her hair from her eyes as she focused on the screen.

"OMG…" was her friend's reply as Sara told her what had just happened between her father and her. Sara smiled as she imagined her friend sitting, open mouthed in shock.

"I know," Sara typed back with a smile.

"So like, do you have a curfew?" Sara read when her message box flashed with an orangey glow. Sara's mouth twisted into a crooked line and her brow wrinkled as she thought.

"BRB," she typed quickly before pushing herself from her seat and yanking her bedroom door open.

"Midnight!" Frank called up the stairs anticipating her question. His voice was deep and business like and it bounced off the walls with an echo. Sara sighed and returned to the laptop as it sat buzzing on her messy desktop.

"Midnight…bleh…" she typed.

"That sucks LOL. BRB," her friend typed back before disappearing and leaving Sara waiting on her return. A small square box flashed up in the corner of Sara's screen and her skin prickled with joy, suppressing her earlier anger. The plain black text was easily distinguishable on the pale cream background. Sara gulped as she read its message. "Loyola Scofield has just signed on".

Sara felt her warmth dissipate into nothing as she recalled their earlier interaction. Her cursor hovered over the message, the text on it turning blue and underlined, but she froze. She had no business talking to Michael anymore, he had made that clear. All she wanted was to forget about him because if she stopped, even for just a second, and thought about Michael Scofield, she would die.

A box popped up on her screen and "I'm sorry" was the message, emotionless in its blue sans font. The minimized box flashed amber at the bottom of her screen as she contemplated answering. Sara's fingers hovered above the keyboard, quivering when she sudden emotion rushed her body. "Sara?" appeared next, the font rolling into the conversation on a black background.

"I'm here," was all she could think of typing. She couldn't think of anything else to say and for all Michael had done today she didn't want him to leave her again. As much as she tried, she couldn't hate him. "You ok?" she kept the conversation casual.

"No. Crappy…" Michael answered quickly, his entire sea of emotions summed up in one word. He didn't even ask Sara how she was. He didn't think he had any right and Sara was glad he didn't ask.

"Michael I don't hate you," she typed hurriedly, her words per minute much more then that of anyone she knew. "I can't hate you…" she paused, awaiting his reply.

"I do," was his simply reply. "I hate me". Sara didn't know what to say back and was glad the box indicated he was still typing. "I can't even make it right," he said with a sad face emoticon.

"You were right," Sara typed as her eyes burned with tears, blurring her vision. "I was being selfish and wasn't thinking of the bigger picture because I didn't want to lose you," She sighed and rested her hands to her lap. The Internet made it so much easier for Sara to speak her mind and Michael couldn't interrupt her. "I know I was wrong to lie to you and you could have lost so much," she typed with worry when he didn't reply, urging a response.

"I've lost you…" he tapped back, another sad yellow face appearing at the end of his words. A second flashing box on her screen signified Sara's friend's return.

"Back. What did I miss?" the reply jumped on the screen as quickly as the box flashed.

"Michael IM'd me," Sara typed to her, already having told her about their car incident.

"AND!" her friend said, capitalisation a sign of shouting.

"He thinks he has lost me," Sara told her. "What do I say?" she asked her friend for a valued response.

"Go to town on him!" Sara's friend joked with a cheesy grin emoticon which made Sara chuckle lightly. "And then tell him what you want," she added seriously. Sara thought about what she wanted and the likely hood of it ever happening. She knew neither her nor Michael could wait another year or so for her to come of age and the last thing she wanted was trouble for him.

Sara moved her cursor over Michael's message box and clicked it to open. He was still online but was not talking, obviously waiting for her to speak next. Sara took her friends advice and began typing.

"Michael I want you so badly and I know it is so wrong, and yet it feels so right. I dream about you all the time and I thought I could fool you into liking me, maybe even loving me. I didn't tell you how old I was because I wanted you to get to know me before you discarded me as some high school kid with a crush. I was wrong, I know that, but so were you," Sara pressed return, sending him the message when she ran out of typing room but immediately carried on in the new space.

"You thought I was stupid enough to get you into trouble when I cared for you so much I would never have been so immature. I wished I was older but I didn't think you would be so shallow and see me as a number rather then a person. If I was your age and you were twenty four, you wouldn't have rejected me like this," she pressed return again.

"I feel rejected Michael and I try to hate you for it but I can't. I want us to be friends and who knows what will happen in the future. All I want now is for you to say you'll still talk to me, go out with me to places and love me as a friend. I can't lose you as a friend," she hit return one last time and felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

Michael's reply was never right as he continually typed and deleted what he wanted to say. Sara waited in anticipation, hoping his reply was understanding and not something she couldn't take. "I will always love you Sara," he finally sent over the message box and Sara's heart jumped in her chest. Her friend flashed back on the screen, giving her a time and a place to meet her for the party.

"Michael I have to go," she typed sadly. "We are ok, right?" she typed quickly before he could reply.

"We are ok," he sent back with a smiley face at the end, which made Sara smile and her warmth return. "Bye Sara," he typed and the same tiny pale cream box rolled into view in the corner of her screen once more.

"Loyola Scofield has signed off".


	16. Rescue Me Part 1

Déjà vu hit Sara as she walked along the street to meet her friend as she had done the first time she saw Michael at a party. Just like her father had suggested, they were going to a party. The night air was freezing and Sara rubbed her arms trying to warm them under her jacket. She was dressed casually. The idea of a party this time was to have fun, not impress any guys.

She wore black jeans with a large buckled square studded belt holding them to her hips. Her belly poked free of her two layers shirt and its fine hair stood to attention in the chilly air. The first layer was grey cotton, hugging at her skin while the second was a red capped sleeve shirt with badges sewn onto the sleeves. It was fashionable yet comfortable.

Sara's friend had told her to meet her at the party. It was on the Loyola campus but not near Michael's dorm and Sara doubted he would show. An obnoxious guy who was already drunk by the time Sara arrived, spying his staggering figure on the front lawn, hosted it. He was holding a half empty bottle of what looked like beer to the air whilst belting out his best rendition of _It's Raining Men_. Sara smiled to herself as she pushed her way into the house.

There was a live band, probably just a group of college friends that played instruments and called themselves a band. They were not good and at least one guitar was out of tune. Waves of drunken students told them they were the best things in rock and roll and so they were fuelled on. The lead singer had long black hair that flicked into the crowd each time he banged his head up and down. One guitarist was short and thin, his black hair combed flat to his head and his face scrunched up as he played. Another was almost normal; his blue jeans and chequered shirt neatly ironed and clean behind his translucent Perspex bass and the drummer was abnormally tall and shirtless.

Sara walked around the pit of people as they ran against each other and bumped into things. A table wobbled and drink was spilled as they tried to combine moshing with drinking. Sara caught sight of her friend sitting on a couch in a quiet room with some other people. Sara recognised a few of them as friends from school, and some as people she had seen around the campus when using the library. She approached them and tucked her hair behind her ear nervously.

"Hey," she waved to her friend who sat tucked under her boyfriend's arm.

"Hey!" she screeched with a grin. "Come, sit," she pointed to a space in the circle of people next to a guy. He patted the floor beside her and flashed her a smile. Sara smiled back as she took a seat next to him. He was about her height and slightly rounder then most guys. He had dark hair that flopped in messy curls over his head and chocolate brown eyes.

"I'm Adam," he extended her a hand confidently. Sara took it and gave it a hard shake.

"Sara," she told him in a raised voice. Even though the music was in the next room, it echoed through the house and she had to shout a little to be heard. He was dressed in jeans and a light shirt that was not tucked in and hung loosely over his lap. He was also wearing a black pinstriped blazer that had become the fashion recently.

Sara and Adam seemed to hit it off from the start. He was in his last year of high school and had been scoping Loyola as a potential college when he found a flyer for the party. "And I figured, why not go to a party and decide from there," he said, leaning in so he didn't have to shout. His breath was hot and smelt like stale ash from where he smoked.

Sara smiled politely and laughed. "So you'd choose a college based on the nightlife?" she teased.

"Hell yeah! You wouldn't?" Adam gave her a questioning glance and a cheeky grin. Sara laughed harder, rocking backwards before composing herself and clearing her dry throat with a smirk. "Hey can I get you a drink?" he offered, studying her face.

"That would be great," Sara said placing a friendly hand to his knee. His eyes darted between hers and her hand before he smiled and pushed himself to his feet, striding off towards the kitchen area and the beer. Sara's friend caught her gaze and gave her a thumb up across the circle, which had grown somewhat larger, pushing her and Adam into a tight corner on the opposite side of the room.

Sara was enjoying herself and more importantly wasn't afraid to see Michael should he appear. They were friends and had nothing to be ashamed of anymore. They had said their pieces and although Sara was still aching inside to be with him, she was enjoying Adam's company. He seemed like a really nice guy and was more her age range, which her father should warm to a lot easier.

Sara tapped her fingers on the flattened carpet as she waited for Adam to return. She leant her body to one side and reached into her pocket to pull her phone from it, sliding the front up to see the clock. It was eleven thirty and if she wanted to come to other parties she would have to get going soon. She slid the phone closed just as Adam returned and handed her a plastic cup.

"Here you go. One beer," he said, sinking back onto the carpet beside her. Sara gazed into the cup and quirked an eyebrow when she saw it was three quarters froth. "Sorry 'bout that," Adam blushed. "I didn't think you would want a bottle and I suck at pouring," he chuckled, taking a swig of his own beer from a dark brown bottle.

"It's fine," Sara told him taking a gulp and forcing the bitter liquid down her throat. Beer wasn't her poison of choice. "What took you so long?" she asked him with a frown as she watched her frothy beer head sink into the brown liquid.

"Uh…" Adam stuttered looking into his lap. "I went for a cigarette, sorry" he replied, sucking air in through his teeth when Sara gave him a look of disgust. "Bad, I know," he joked as she took another gulp of her drink and gave him a nod.

"It will kill you," Sara told him, finishing off the small amount of actual beer that was left hiding under the froth. Adam watched her intently, licking his lips when she threw her head back to get every last drop out of the cup. Sara wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and opened her eyes. The room seemed to be moving, and her vision was blurred.

Sara began to sway sideways and Adam caught her with a strong hand. "Are you ok?" she asked her, setting his beer down to one side of him.

Sara touched a hand to her temple, blinking to try and sharpen her sight. "Um…" she began unable to finish. She hadn't drunk anything all night until now and wasn't drunk. She could tell when she was drunk because it didn't happen very often.

"Lets get you some air," Adam offered, pulling her to her feet. He wrapped an arm around her waist and walked her from the room. Silence invaded Sara's ears and when she opened her eyes it was pitch black. She couldn't see and she felt dizzy. Her phone fell from her hand and bounced on the floor, dialling her last called number when it hit the green button.

"Here lay down," Adam said as he lowered her to a strange bed. His voice had changed and was as dark as the room. Sara tried to sit up but was pushed back onto the mattress, her entire body weak and unable to fight off the strong hand that held her down. Her eyes went wide in the darkness when she heard unzipping and spare change rattle in a pocket as Adam's jeans hit the floor at his ankles.

"No!" Sara screamed and fought against his bulk as he held her hands together in one powerful grip. He gritted his teeth and spat abuse at her as he fumbled with her struggling body to undo her jeans. "Get off of me!" she screeched but was halted when he threw a sweaty palm over her mouth.

"Shut up!" he spat pushing her head down into the cover. Sara began to cry. Her eyes squeezed together and her tears rolled down the sides of her face and into her hair that lay on the bed under head. Her body jerked with each sob and her blood rushed with fear of the unknown.

One the floor her phone had connected with number it had dialled and Michael listened in horror.


	17. Rescue Me Part 2

Michael didn't know what to think. He didn't know where Sara was or whom she was with. Was this a sick joke? Her revenge? Somehow he couldn't believe that Sara would be this cruel. Her muffled screams gripped at his heart through the phone pressed to his ear and his breathing quickened. He spun around, searching the campus for any sign that this wasn't real as he walked back to his dorm from the library.

Michael flipped his silver phone closed and stared at it in his hand for a second. What had just happened? He had absolutely no idea where Sara was or how she had called him. He had heard her scream but then her voice was gone, silenced into mumbling tears. Michael's head snapped up as he broke into a sprint towards his dorm.

He panted heavily as his heart raced in his chest. His feet fell to the pavement like rocks with each step, his eyes constantly darting around the campus for any sign of Sara. He stopped as two paths crossed on the campus, leading off into four different directions. He spun around looking behind him, his expression full of panic and frustration.

He ran a trembling hand across his head, his fingers tangling in his lengthening spikes. His hair had grown somewhat since he shaved his head last Summer. Now it was January, almost February and he welcomed the extra coverage in the cold night. Condensation hung in the air as he exhaled hard, his mouth open and his lungs stinging from the coldness he breathed.

Michael spun back around when he heard a short giggle. Hoping it was Sara and this was all a joke to scare him, his eyes flickered from side to side until they rested on a couple. They looked young and stumbled from the front garden of a party hand in hand. The guy tried to lift the girl with a dirty grin on his face but she pushed against his shoulders with a laugh and he dropped her to her feet.

Michael started towards them, his stride wide and hurried. As he got closer he recognised the girl as Sara's friend. They had never spoken before but he had seen them together at the library. The guy hugged the girl protectively as Michael approached, their smiles dropping from their faces.

"Michael?" she looked puzzled. "What are you doing here?" Michael looked behind them, hoping to see Sara emerge from the party at any time safe and smiling. She didn't. "Are you ok?" She asked again, pulling herself free from her boyfriend's arms.

"Did Sara come with you?" he searched their blank faces for an answer to his question.

"Yeah she went to get a drink with some guy," he friend said, waving a hand over her shoulder lazily.

"Where's is she now?" he asked her in a flurry, staring straight into her eyes. Her boyfriend turned behind them, his eyelids heavy and half open. He started into the space between them and the house puzzled.

"Sara was…" he started. Michael growled and pushed through them, knocking her friend backwards one way and her boyfriend the other. "Hey!" he shouted in protest and shot a glance at his girlfriend who had just realised the seriousness of the situation. Immediately she sobered up.

"Come on," she commanded, grabbing her boyfriend's arm and dragging him back to the party behind Michael.

Michael burst through the open door into the room. No one batted an eyelid and continued worshipping the band. "Sara!" he called but a heavy guitar solo drowned his voice out. His long jacket flew behind him as he rushed through the crowded hallway, excusing his pushed and prods as he made his way into the kitchen.

It was almost empty, of people and beer. Sara was nowhere to be seen and he didn't waste time looking any more. He ran back out into the hallway and stopped dead in the crowd. People looked at him with disgust and a few people called him a freak as he stood on tiptoes to see over them. He searched the room for Sara's familiar red hair but he was disappointed.

To his right Michael heard two guy laughing. They were probably his age and it was probably their dorm. "You just slip it into her drink and she'll never remember a thing," one said as he caught the end of their conversation. The other laughed and it was sadistic. Michael spun around and grabbed the guy by the shirt, throwing him into the side of the banister with all his weight behind it.

"Where did you get them?" he spat into the guys face. The guy held up his hands in defence, turning his face from Michael and squeezing his cowardly eyes shut with fear.

"I, uh…," he stammered as the other guy he was talking to turned and ran out through the kitchen. Michael pulled his tiny body from the wooden framework and slammed it back into it harder. The guy let out a groan and his face contorted with pain as his back hit the wood. "Adam!" he screeched flinching.

"That's the name of the guy Sara was with," her friend told Michael as she finally caught up to him panting. Michael's head snapped back to the trembling man in his hands, his eyes almost black with hellish fury.

The guy pinched his eyes shut again and twitched, waiting for Michael's massive paw to strike him. "They went upstairs," he choked out, pointing a shaky finger towards the ceiling. Michael dropped him to a heap on the floor and raced for the stairs, bounding up them in four steps. Sara's friend and her boyfriend trailed behind him slower, the affects of their drinking slowing them down.

Michael kicked open a door and it bounced off the wall behind as it hit it. "Sara?" he called into the darkness but there was no response. He turned and darted across the hall, pushing open the next door. Again he was met with an empty room, the only furniture a neatly made bed and a ticking clock. The ticking ate away at Michael as he stumbled into the hall and looked both directions. There were several doors and he was running out of time.

A low cry caught Michael's attention and he turned hard, catching the wall as he tripped along the corridor. The carpet muffled his heavy boots as his panicked body headed for the end door on shaky legs. There was a sign on the handle saying "Do not Disturb" which Michael ignored and sent flying across the room when he kicked open the door.

Adam let go of Sara's hands startled and spun around. A huge shadow loomed in the doorway and he only glanced at it quickly before turning back to Sara as her free hands beat hard against his body. Michael lunged for Adam, grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him to face him. His face was pale and his mouth hung open in horror and alarm. He had no time to react or say a word before Michael's clenched fist hit his face, sending him flying back into the wall where he fell to the floor in a vacillating mess.

Sara's cries grew louder once her mouth was released and she still pounded into the air. Her friend and her boyfriend fell into the room after the commotion and set their eyes on Sara. Her top was yanked upwards and her jeans were half way down her legs, exposing her milky skin. Thankfully her modesty was still hidden beneath her underwear that had been so far untouched.

"You bastard!" the boyfriend roared, yanking Adam to his feet and from the room. Blood poured down his face from a broken nose and a purple bruise had already begun to show under the swelling under his eye. Sara's friend stood staring at her, her hand covering her mouth in shock as she shook with dread.

Michael was already by her side, leaning over her body as she yelled for help and beat her weak fist against him. "Sara!" he called to her, wiping a strong hand across her forehead, brushing her messy hair from her face. Her eyes remained closed and her face was streaming with tears. Michael grabbed her hands with the other and stopped them flailing, holding them to his heart. "Sara, it's Michael," he said softly, his lips inches from her face.

Sara was scared to open her eyes. She was afraid that if she did, and he wasn't there, the nightmare would continue. Her crying began to cease and she peeled an eye open. Michael was hovering above her, one hand stroking hers while the other wiped tears from her delicate cheeks. Her gaze met his loving stare and he squeezed her hand tightly. "I'm here," he told her cupping her cheek in his hand.

Sara's eyes welled with more tears but she could not speak. Her head hurt and she felt so disorientated she had no idea where she was. All she knew was Michael was here and she would be safe. Sara reached up with a hand and lay a hand on Michael cheek. His breath caught in his throat at the contact, contact he had missed so much. His eyes darted from hers, unable to focus for a second and when they met hers again, Sara pulled his lips to hers.

She couldn't tell him how much she wanted him to rescue her so she would show him. Their lips lingered together for a long while before Michael pulled away and looked into Sara's eyes again. He saw relief and she lost consciousness as they fluttered closed. Michael let her hands fall gently to her sides as he redressed her tenderly.

Taking off his jacket he wrapped her in it and heaved her dead weight into his arms. Her head lolled against his shoulder and he tucked it protectively under his chin as he held her. "Is she going to be ok?" her friend asked worriedly, fiddling with Sara's cell phone she had found as he walked past her out of the room. Michael simply nodded and carried her from the house.

All eyes fell on him as he slowly made his way down the narrow stairs case, his muscles rippling under his clothes as they strained to hold Sara's body in his arms. The night air took his breath as he stepped out in just his t-shirt, the hair on his arms standing on end as he walked across campus with Sara in his secure embrace.


	18. Should of means Nothing

Michael's dorm was dark and cold. As he stepped into the unlocked house he figured the rest of his dorm mates were at the party. His jaw clenched at the thought of what had just happened and how it had happened. He should of known about the party. He should have been there. He should have stopped this from happening.

Michael never let go of Sara until he reached his room. The door was unlocked, a sign of his trusting and foolish nature. He struggled to push the handle downwards, freeing the latch from its hole in the frame. The door creaked open, swinging loosely on the frame to reveal the unmarked stairwell. Michael navigated the stairs in the darkness, placing each step lightly to the wooden steps so as not to wake Sara in his arms.

He had already decided the couch was not worthy of Sara and headed straight to him bedroom. Sara was motionless in his arms but the gentle rise and fall of her chest indicated her steady breathing. Michael leant carefully to one side at the edge of his bed, positioning Sara in his arms so that she was lying with her head over his shoulder like a baby. With one swipe, he threw back his masculine blue covers and gently set her down.

Sara stirred gently in protest as Michael pulled his arms free from her body. She shivered a little before he pulled the comforter back over her, covering her entire body up to her neck. A small groan escaped her lips as she turned over and Michael could swear she had called for him. Leaving her was the hardest thing he could ever of done under the circumstances but he had to call someone. He should call her father.

Michael backed out of the room, never taking his eyes from her tired form snoring softly in his bed. He pulled the two wide sliding doors together, each rattling across the runner as sound ricocheted through his room. Michael pulled his face into a winch as they moved, shooting a glance through the gap between the doors as it grew smaller, making sure she was not disturbed.

Michael rubbed his hands nervously on his thighs as he stared at the telephone numbers scrawled onto a piece of paper before him. It was the piece of paper Frank Tancredi had given him that day they collided in the street. It was a direct link to Governor Tancredi. Michael exhaled hard. What should he say? How should he say it? A part of Michael blamed himself for Sara's ordeal. He should have been there.

Michael coughed quietly and reached for the cordless phone that sat on his kitchenette counter. He dialled the number on the piece on the piece of paper and froze. His finger hovered above the green button that would call the Governor. He took in one last breath and pressed down. Pressing the phone to his ear he grew more anxious with every ring.

A click signified the call connecting. "Governor Tancredi's office, how may I help you?" a tired woman's voice droned down the line.

"Hi, uh, is the Governor free? It's urgent," Michael whispered, shooting a glance at the bedroom doors as he paced the tiled floor.

"May I ask who is calling and the purpose of your call?" the woman was typing and Michael could hear the tapping of her keyboard as she furiously attacked the keys.

"Yeah, it's Michael Scofield," he began, scratching the back of his neck. "It's regarding his daughter," he finished.

"Please hold," the robotesque woman said before her voice was replaced by intermittent beeping. Michael crept to his bedroom door and pulling one open to see Sara. She was lying with her legs tucked up against herself in the foetal position and her face twitched with dream activity.

The beeping stopped and the woman returned to the line. "Please hold for Governor Tancredi," she droned and the line clicked again.

"Tancredi," Frank's voice sounded annoyed and the sound of music filled the background. Michael heard glasses clink together and people laughing. He figured it was another fund raiser or Governor's ball that Sara was never invited too. Michael cleared his through before speaking again.

"Sir, It's Michael Scofield. We had an accident once," Michael's voice rose slightly, almost as if questioning the Governor's memory. Frank sipped a glass of champagne absently.

"I know who you are," he told Michael in a discourteous tone. Michael shrugged it off and proceeded.

"It's about Sara…" he began but was cut off when Frank let out a long, exaggerated sigh. Michael sensed he was a little drunk.

"Look, you call me at…" Frank lifted his sleeve to look at his watch. "1AM about my daughter?"

"Yes…" Again he overlooked the urgency in Michael's voice and cut him off.

"This is a very important event Mr. Scofield," Frank told him, urging him to hurry with his words.

"I understand that but Sara is here. With me," Michael almost said the last words as a cough. The Governor went silent and his eyes narrowed. Sara should have been in bed, not with the man she was not allowed to see.

"And why would that be?" Frank remained calm although his irritation was evident on his voice. Michael ran his fingers through his hair, unsure where to start.

"There was an incident at a party she went to. She was drugged and a college student attempted to rape her," Michael didn't know how else to put it. The truth would always set you free he was told. He should of known better.

"Why were you there?" Frank questioned irreverently, seemly more opposed to him around his daughter than anyone else.

"I'm sorry?" Michael blinked in disbelief. "Did you hear me?" he asked raising his voice a little.

"Oh I heard you," Frank assured him. "I'll be sending a car to get Sara within the hour," and with that the line went dead. Michael pulled the phone from his head and stared at it amazed. How her father was so blind he didn't know. Shocked, he pressed the red phone to end the call and slammed it back onto its cradle on his counter top.

"Michael?" a small voice croaked from his bedroom. Michael's head snapped towards the room and he darted around furniture to get there. He pulled one door aside and saw Sara sitting on his bed, her hair still ruffled and unkempt, and her face confused. "Where am I?" she asked him with a frown as he made his way to her side.

"At my place," he told her taking a seat on the edge of the bed beside her. Sara looked around the room, taking everything in. It was dark with a very small window and the air was so cold her breath condensed when she exhaled. Everything was dark blue apart from some small furniture but that was a dark stained wood.

"Why?" her head rolled back to his, their eyes meeting. He was scared to tell her what had happened when it was clear she didn't remember. She had a right to know and Michael took one of her hands, pressing it firmly between both of his. "Michael, what is it?" she asked clearly worried when his gaze dropped to the ground.

"You don't remember?" he asked her to make sure. Sara shook her head.

"No, but you're scaring me," she confessed. "Is it my father?" her eyes stung with tears as she prepared herself for his answer. Michael brought his head up to look into her watery eyes once more.

"No," Michael soothed shuffling closer to her and flashing her a pathetic smile. "No, he's fine," he nodded.

Sara's head felt like it was going to explode and her eyes were heavy. She fought to keep them open and focused on Michael's worried features. Michael reached out a hand and rested it to her cheek, waking her from her desperately needed sleep. Her eyes flickered open and she smiled, leaning into his hand. Michael brushed his thumb across her cheekbone and was about to speak when a knock at his door stopped him.

"I'll be right back," he told her, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing the soft skin. As he left Sara she swung he legs over the edge of the bed and planted her feet shakily onto the floor. Her feet felt like lead as she dragged them to the bedroom door to see who was at Michael's dorm room door. She heard voices as she approached and rested a hand lightly to the wood, straining her ears to listen.

Michael pulled the door open and set eyes on two of Chicago's finest. "Mr. Scofield?" One officer asked him reading from notes in his tiny notepad. He was a big guy, at least six foot five and had a goatee and a beer belly.

"Yeah?" Michael answered with a puzzled expression.

"Michael Scofield?" the other officer asked. Michael gaze jumped between the two men. The second officer was about the same height as the first but he was slimmer and more muscular. His biceps bulged beneath his long sleeved black shirt as he shifted on the spot.

"Yeah?" Michael repeated to the second officer as Sara appeared behind him. The officers gazes flew over Michael's shoulder and took in Sara's dishevelled appearance, uneven clothing and drowsy state. The second officer reached behind him and unhooked a set of handcuffs.

"Michael Scofield, you're under arrest for the statutory rape of Sara Tancredi…" he began, stepping into the room and pulling Michael's hands behind his back.

"What? I didn't rape Sara," his eyes fell upon her stunned face before he realised he hadn't told her what really happened. She stepped back in horror, her eyes wide and her hand covering her mouth. "Sara, no…" he objected to her expression as the officer turned him and lead him from the room. "Sara this is wrong!" he called over his shoulder as he disappeared from her view.

"Please come with me Sara," the first officer shook her from her horrific daydream with his deep voice. Sara looked to his extended hand and took it in shock as he guided her from Michael's dorm. A group had formed outside as Michael was placed into one patrol car and Sara was placed into another.

A female officer accompanied Sara while the two male officers escorted Michael from the campus in their car. One reached for his radio on his shoulder, pressed in the button and called in the arrest.

"Michael Scofield is in custody. Please stand by".


	19. Make It Right

Michael sighed as he sat in the interrogation room, his forehead pressed to a cold steel table before him and his hands shackled through a steel ring under the table. He couldn't believe what was happening. He had saved the Governor's daughter and he had had him arrested for his trouble. Michael's breath condensed in tiny droplets on the cold table as he exhaled, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow.

Michael peeled his face from the table when a detective and a guard entered. The detective was slim and Michael followed him as he walked around the room with an unreadable expression. He wore his shirt with the top buttons open, no tie and a jacket that matched his pants. His hair was balding but combed over his head in a well-practised arch.

The guard rested himself by the door with his hands placed in front of him, one in the other. The keys on his belt rattled as he shifted his footing before staring at Michael, intimidating him with a cold glare. He looked at Michael as if he was scum, the lowest of the low, and he hated it. Michael felt discriminated and segregated for a crime he hadn't committed. This wasn't justice; this was political persecution.

The detective pulled another silvery chair identical to Michael's from under the table and sat in it, resting his hands on the table with his fingers interlocked. He glanced over his shoulder at the two-way mirror before commencing. "Michael Scofield, is that your name?" he glanced at some noted he had clipped to a board in one hand.

"Yes." Michael answered under his breath, his head flopping to one side as he studying the two-way mirror.

The detective leant back in his chair and lifted a page on the board slowly. The paper crumpled and nearly ripped. "I'm Detective Cray," he told Michael shooting him a glance. "Do you know why you are here?" he released the page of paper, which fell flat against the others and then he shuffled forward once more to stare directly at Michael.

"For a crime I didn't commit," Michael spoke low, his voice like a growl on his breath. The detective grinned sarcastically at his response and leant back again. Michael sighed with anger. He wasn't in the mood for games. "Look you can keep me here for as long as the Governor wants but you can't prove I raped Sara. If anything you'll prove I didn't," he said hurriedly in one breath.

"How well do you know Miss Tancredi?" Cray asked Michael with an implied look.

"I don't," Michael read his implication and told him unblinking with a stern tone. "We are friends," she said shortly.

"And you are aware that she is a minor?" Cray said in the same tone as before. Michael sighed and lowered his head so he was staring at the bare metallic table once again. His reflection was distorted and frayed in the metal finish.

"I am yes," he said quietly.

"Don't you think that is a strange friendship Mr. Scofield?" Cray asked him urging a response from Michael. Michael lifted his head to look into the detective's sunken eyes.

"What does it matter what I think," Michael began frustrated. "You have me chained to a table in the middle of the night. You obviously think I am guilty," he finished, sinking backwards in his chair until his back connected with the harsh metal surface.

The detective paused for a second before turning to the guard. "Thomas, help Mr. Scofield out of his restraints would you?" he flicked a finger towards Michael and the guard moved towards him. Kneeling at Michael's side he reached under the table and roughly grabbed for the locking mechanism. Wrenching his keys from his belt on retractable elastic, he put one small key into the lock and twisted. With a click the cuffs fell from Michael's wrists.

"Thank you," Michael told him rubbing his wrists as pink bruises began to form. Cray was obviously trying to build some kind of trust with Michael in order to trap him into confessing. Michael shot another glance at the two-way mirror as he continued to nurture is aching joints. "Did Governor Tancredi tell you I called him to tell him I had rescued Sara from being raped?" he spat, staring straight into the blackened glass.

The detective pouted as he read the notes before him. "At a party he sent her to no less," Michael laughed quickly with disregard for Frank's authority. Behind the glass Frank stood with clenched fists as his blood boiled under his aged skin. An officer next to him looked him up and down, his rigid posture a sign of his anger.

"Governor?" she questioned in a frail voice.

"Just…" he paused, clenching his eyes shut and shaking his fist at his side. "Do what needs to be done," she spat before storming from the room. In the corridor he paced back and forth, awaiting the arrival of Sara from the hospital with the female officer who has gone with her.

The door at the end of the corridor swung open and Sara walked through with the officer's hand around her back. She looked tired and fragile, her small body wrapped in a blanket that had Chicago Hospital printed in blue letters along one edge. Frank strode towards her and gave the police officer a weak smile before taking Sara in his arms.

"Are you ok?" he asked smoothly as he pulled her into a hug. Sara was squashed against his expensive dinner shirt as she struggled to free herself.

"I'm fine dad," he pulled her back to check her all over for trauma. She had a slight graze to one wrist but was otherwise fine. "I wasn't raped," she said relieved and her voice broke on the final word. "The kit was negative for sperm or even lubricant from a condom," she breathed hard, thanking whoever was looking out for her.

"Oh Sara I am so sorry, this is my entire fault," her father began. "I made you go to that party to forget about that idiot Scofield…"

"Michael isn't an idiot dad…" Sara interrupted him with a wide-eyed frowned. "He saved my life," she told him factually. Frank had been sitting in a police station for at least three hours and had had ample time to sober up. What had he done? Sara looked at him confused. "What is it?" she asked him.

Frank shook his head from side to side, and gripped at her shoulders. "I had him arrested," he murmured hating himself even more. It didn't mater who Michael was or how his daughter saw him. Frank had nearly ruined an innocent man's life with an undeterred rage and Sara would probably never forgive him.

"What?" Sara snorted in disbelief. She pulled away from her father's embrace feeling dirty and corrupt under his touch.

"Sara, I am so sorry," he took a step towards her and tried to coax her back to him. "I'll make it right," he assured her with a nod towards the door next to him. Sara eyes followed his nod and she stared at the door in shock.

"He's here now?" she blinked, pushing the blanket from her shoulders as she grabbed at the door handle. Her blunt fingers scraped the paint as she clawed for Michael, pounding the obstruction as she whimpered his name.

"Sara!" her father pulled her away but she pushed him off of her.

"Don't you touch me," she croaked through gritted teeth, her voice low with rage. Frank sighed at her as she turned from his, crossing her arms and pacing to the opposite side of the corridor. She stared at a bulletin board but nothing caught her interest. It was a simple distraction but she could do nothing but think of Michael. She spun on her heels and met her father's eyes. "Make it right now," she commanded.

"Ok," Frank agreed and headed towards the door he had come from.


	20. I was Like You

Michael had his face hidden in his hands when there was a soft knock on the huge metallic door of the interrogation room. He dragged his hands down his face, his eyes moving to the handle as it was pushed down from the outside. The detective leant forward in his chair and pushed his body out of it using the table as leverage. A petite officer poked her head around the doorway and motioned for the detective to follow her.

"Excuse me," he grinned at Michael who just turned his head away in frustration. Cray moved to fill the gap made by the open door and pushed his face through the exposed space and pulled the door closed against his shoulders. "What is it?" he snapped at the young officer.

"Sara Tancredi's test results were negative," she told him handing him a sheet of paper.

"What?" He asked furiously, snatching the paper from her hands and hurriedly scanning the results.

The young officer peeked a look at Michael over Cray's shoulder. "He didn't do it," she told him in a whisper as she watched Michael search the blank walls for any interaction. "And the Governor wants to talk to him," she added with a gulp.

Cray's head snapped to hers and she moved her eyes to look over her shoulder, motioning for Cray to follow her gaze. His rolled his eyes upwards to where the Governor stood, hands in pockets, pacing back and forth by the door. He shot a glance at the officer once more before she shrugged and turned from him, leaving the tiny lobby type room.

Cray cleared his throat and Frank looked up towards him, half way through rubbing his square jaw line. "Governor Tancredi," he beckoned him forward with a rough hand. Frank fell into step, arriving at the room in two quick steps. "Your daughter's results were…" he begun.

Frank held up a hand to hush him. "I know," he breathed. Cray peered over his shoulder at Michael who was staring straight at them, listening intently with a smirk.

"Sir, we can't hold him if…" Cray started with a softening expression. His stint as both the good cop and the bad cop had ended.

"I know," Frank repeated rubbing the back of his neck with a jagged scratching motion. "I want to tell him," Frank told him and Cray nodded, moving aside. Frank pulled his hands from his pockets and stepped into the chilly room. He glanced around the room; the unpainted grey stonewalls making it dark and eerie. Frank looked to the guard who stood statuesque by behind the door. "Leave us," he commanded and with a nod, the guard left.

Michael studied Frank as he stayed hidden in the shadows by the door. His hands found his pockets once again and he rubbed his fingertips together nervously. Michael leant forward in his chair, dropping his gaze to his hands as they met on the table interlocking slowly. "Governor Tancredi," Michael greeted him in a steady tone.

"Michael I'm sorry," Frank told him quickly. Michael listened, never taking his eyes from his hands as his fingers danced and grated together. "I jumped to the wrong conclusions earlier," he paused as Michael let out a shrill closed mouth laugh. "And I overreacted," he finished and swallowed a lump in his throat from where he had forgot to swallow.

"Overreacted?" Michael sneered and Frank lowered his head. Michael lifted his head and he squinted into the darkness. "I'd say overreacted was an understatement," he slammed his fists into the table and the sound ricocheted around the room like a tin can hitting stone.

"What would you of done?" Frank raised his voice and took a step towards Michael into the light. "I would do anything, however stupid, to protect her!" he roared, waving his arms wildly before his finger came to a stop pointing towards the door.

Michael pushed himself to his feet, determined to not be intimidated by Frank's display. "So I wouldn't?" he bellowed in a voice he didn't even know he had. Frank was startled and he flinched at Michael's volume. "She means the world to me," he panted slightly, his fury quickening his blood and breathing. "I love her," Michael yelled, the emotions surging through his body.

Frank laughed but it wasn't sadistic or evil. His laugh was one of a man who was reliving happiness, reminiscing of a time that filled him with joy. Michael squinted at him, unsure what to make of the spectre before him.

"I was like you once," Frank pointed a finger at him and propped himself against the wall next to the thick edged two-way mirror. "I fell in love with a girl," he rested his head on the stone walls and looked up at the ceiling. "She was younger then me and naturally her father disapproved," he lolled his head so his eyes met Michael's. "And because I couldn't have her I wanted her even more," he smiled, his voice calm and content as he depicted his story.

"What happened?" Michael asked, his own anger fading away as he watched Frank with avid fascination.

"We fought," he said simply with a raise of an eyebrow. "And he lost," he pushed himself off the wall with his shoulders and strode towards the centre of the room. "She made the decision to love me and not him anymore. She never saw him again," he said sadly, lowering his head as he moistened his lips with a quick dart of his tongue.

"Than what?" Michael quizzed with a frown.

"We got married," Frank grinned with delight. "She was beautiful that day and then we discovered we were to be parents the next spring." Michael watched Frank with is mouth ajar as he realised he was talking about Sara's mother. Frank gazed dropped to Michael as they stood an arms length apart. "I don't want to lose her Michael," he confessed shakily. "And if it means letting you two be together…" he bit his tongue, trying desperately to force the next words from his mouth.

"Thank you," Michael cut him off, saving Frank from his humiliating reluctance. Michael extended a strong hand to Frank with a lopsided smile. "Sir," his hand hovered between them as Frank studied it. For a second, neither man moved.

Frank still didn't like the possibility of the man before him running his politely extended hand over his daughter's body. He hated the way his mind fabricated scenarios in which he was always the bad guy and Sara shunned him away. He never wanted to lose her, to chase her away into the arms of Michael and never see her again. But most of all he never wanted to see her taken from his world too early, as her mother was, too late to make amends and end up regretting it for the rest of his life.

Frank pulled his hand from his pocket and shoved in into Michael's, his grip firm yet accepting. Michael closed his fingers around Frank's older hand and shook them up and down in short, quick actions. The two men were interrupted when the door to the room opened and Cray peered around the doorframe. Both men turned to look at him, dropping each other's hands.

"You're free to go Mr. Scofield," he informed Michael with a nod and a smile. Frank shuffled sideways so he was next to Michael and laid a splayed hand to his shoulder.

"Come on," he said leading a relieved Michael from the room. "This way." They entered the small space between the rooms and Michael reached out to grab the door handle to the outside corridor. The small area was stuffy and cool, fresh air invaded the space as soon as the door squeaked open. Frank took hold of the door behind Michael and allowed him to exit the room first.

The fresh air invaded Michael's lungs as he inhaled hard, his eyes closed and his chest puffing out proudly. He caught a whiff of vanilla in his nostrils and his eyes fell open to rest of Sara standing at the end of the corridor. As if in slow motion she spun around to face him, her hair following her face and bouncing on her shoulders. She moved towards him first, her feet unable to carry her fast enough.

Michael's gait was wide as he moved to meet her. Their bodies collided hard and forced the breath from Michael's lungs as Sara threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped his powerful arms around her dainty body. He held her tight, thankful she was fine and unhurt.

"Michael…" she sobbed into his ear as he stroked the outline of her head through her hair.

"Shhh…" he soothed with a velvety voice. "It's over," he promised his breath tickling her sensitive ear. "It's over," he repeated tucking his face into her neck as they were washed with relief.


	21. Happy Birthday M

"Sara!" Frank called up the solid marble staircase that wound up to the landing from two directions.

"Dad's calling, I have to go," Sara pouted into her cell phone as she studied her reflection in a full-length mirror.

"Ok but I'll talk to you soon, ok?" Michael's voice melted down the phone. Sara grinned as she watched her reflection smooth out some wrinkles in her dress.

"Yes sir," Sara cheered giving her reflection a twirl.

"Bye Sara," Michael breathed with a smile, his lips nearly unable to form the words through it.

"Goodbye," she sang and hung up, throwing her phone to her bed where it landed with a bounce.

"Sara!" Her dad yelled shooting a glance at his watch.

"I'm coming!" she called back making her way to the top of the staircase. The sound of her heels clicking on the marble stairs with each step made her father look up. His breath was taken from his body as he smiled with pride. Sara wore her mother's dinner dress; a thin strapped black number that made her look just like her mother.

"Wow, you look stunning," he told her as she came to the bottom of the staircase and looped her hand through his bent elbow, resting it firmly on his arm.

"Thanks," she beamed as Frank laid his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze.

"Shall we?" he started for the door, which was opened by a tall guy in a black suit. An earpiece was pressed into his ear and the curly white wire trailed down his neck. He gave the Governor a nod and they stepped from the mansion to a waiting limousine.

"Oh dad…" she began turning to her father as another guy in a similar suit and black chauffeur's cap opened the rear door.

"I know but it's your birthday," he gave her a smile not allowing her to protest to his lavish treatment. "You deserve it," he planted a kiss to her temple and she blushed.

Sara sunk into the black leather interior and shuffled sideways allowing room for her father. Frank joined her and the door was closed for them. Sara looked around excitedly, setting her eyes upon everything in the expensively rented limo. It was carpeted inside and her heels sunk in the ruby red fibres beneath her feet. The windows were tinted black and in the already pleasant evening it was hard to see out of them.

"So, where are we going?" Sara quizzed her father as the limo set off to a given destination. Frank grinned brazenly, resting a hand on his knee.

"You'll see," he told her cryptically setting his gaze to the blackened window beside him. Sara tingled with anticipation and a wide, toothy grin spread across her face.

The car ride was short, maybe ten minutes by Sara's guessing so she had no idea where they were. The limo rocked to a stand still on gravel and she turned to her father confused. "Where are we?" She asked him with a frown, spinning around in her seat to look out the back window, her dress rubbing against the leather with a creak.

"It's a surprise," he told her, his eyes going wide at the word. He pulled a soft black scrap of material from his jacket pocket and leant across the limo to tie it around her head. "No peeking," he instructed her as he pulled the door handle and it clicked open. Sara's ears strained to hear familiar sounds but she heard nothing but the dead of night.

Frank helped her step from the limousine, her heels digging into the gravel and the lack of grip on her soles threatening to make her fall. Frank held her hand tightly and led her from the car. The night air was mild for March and Sara felt no need for her shoulders to be covered. The gravel seemed to go on forever, crunching beneath her feet as she took step after step.

"Dad…seriously…" she said a little frustrated by how her gorgeously expensive shoes were being ruined by the dusty stones.

"Step up here," Frank commanded her, lifting her hand higher when he wanted her to step. Sara's heeled clicked onto wood and her brow creased with inquisition. Frank let go of her hand and Sara felt lost as she breathed into the silence, her blood pounding in her ears with eager need to know where they were.

Something tugged on her blindfold, untying the loose knot at the back of her head. It fell from her face and Sara blinked in the darkness, her eyes connecting with the light blue of a shirt. Her head lifted slightly and her heart fluttered in her chest when she laid eyes upon Michael's smiling face.

"Michael…" she said with surprise, spinning to look between her father and the man she loved. "Dad, I don't understand," she told him with an excited, wide-eyed appearance. Michael trailed his hands down her bare arms until they met her hands and he held them in front of her.

"I told you I'd talk to you soon," he smirked with a wink. Sara inhaled with joy as Michael's thumbs traced a languid trail across her knuckles. Sara looked around them. They were in a wooden gazebo that was raised from the ground by a large step. Next to her feet was a blanket surrounded by short, cream candles burning dimly in the night, their flames flickering gently. They smelt like vanilla, her favourite scent. "Happy Birthday," He told her as her eyes met his once more.

"Oh Michael," she purred his name so taken by his gesture. Michael glanced over her shoulder at her father as he stood behind them, one foot on the gravel ground and the other resting on the wooden step. He gave Michael a nod as he made his way back to the car with his hands buried deep in his pockets, his heart whole from Sara's happiness. It didn't matter to him that she was spending her birthday away from him. To be honest, each year he was hardly ever there on her birthdays, but this year he had plotted with Michael to make this one special.

Michael tugged on her hands as the car drove from view, leaving them alone in the night. Michael knelt down on the blanket and helped her sit. "You look amazing," he commented as her dress rode up her thigh a little. The black dress she wore was knee length when she was standing and even shorter when she sat with her legs tucked under her sideways. Her smooth legs were silky as Michael laid a warm hand on them, pulling his body closer to her.

"You're very handsome yourself," she told him with a coy smile that made him laugh nervously. Sara's skin ached under his fingers as they trailed up and down her thigh lazily.

"I try," he said staring straight into her eyes, his own blue grey pools pushed half shut by a wide smile. Sara was lost in his stare, her searing inner core reacting instantly to his hand on her high. As innocent as he had made the gesture, it was driving her insane with need, just like their phone escapade.

"Michael…" Sara began dropping her gaze from his shyly. Michael dipped his head to try and follow her eyes before using his hand to tilt her chin upwards again. His eyes roamed hers asking what he needed not to in words. "I can't…." she stammered. "I'm not ready," she said softly, blushing.

Michael moved his hand to cup her cheek, her soft skin lighting his desires. "It's ok," he soothed with a gentle caress on her cheek. "I don't want you to think you have to rush into anything with me," he told her, shifting his weight on one hand so he could cup her face with both hands. "I'd never want that," he told her firmly.

Sara's embarrassment disappeared as she moved to capture his lips in a slow kiss. Michael's hands dropped from her face with one returning back to her thigh. Sara moaned into his mouth as their tongues danced and teased each other leisurely. Sara pressed a small hand to his chest; a sign of her thanks for his understanding and Michael pushed his tongue into her mouth with earnest. Sara's head tilted back as Michael leant forward, easing her back onto the blanket lovingly.

Sara knew she wasn't ready for sex; in fact the thought scared her a little. Her hair spilled onto the faux chenille blanket and Michael laid beside her leaning into her body, running a hand across her flat stomach exciting her skin under her dress. Michael's hand rested on her hip as he pulled from her mouth with reluctance, leaving her gasping.

"Are you ok?" he panted in a considerate tone as her eyes flickered open to stare up at him. Sara didn't answer but instead moved her hand to his on her hip. Michael followed her gaze, sucking in a shallow breath and he let her take control of his hand.

"Remember our phone call?" she purred into his ear as she pushed it down her thigh, over the hem of her dress and began pulling it back up under the fabric. Michael's eyes were fixated on their hands but he was unable to move or speak. He gulped hard. "Remember Michael?" she urged an answer from him, her breath hot and damp on his sensitive ear. Michael held his breath as his fingers touched the expectantly damp material of her underwear. Sara let him touch the fabric before pulling his hands from beneath her dress.

"I remember," he spluttered in swift protest, his eyes unable to focus. Sara licked her lips seductively and returned his hand between her thighs. Her eyes rolled closed and she wiggled her hips as she had done that evening.

"You asked me where I was touching myself," she breathed heavily and Michael swallowed a lump in his throat when their hands hovered above her mound. Sara reached up with her other hand and gently pulled Michael's eyes to hers. His mouth was open and his chest pushed in and out rapidly when their eyes met. "Here…" she murmured pressing Michael's finger to her nerve centre.

Michael's body reacted instantly and he began to sweat. Sara was as wanton as that night over the phone and her face contorted and she bit her lip with pleasure. Michael felt his arousal surging through his body, from his fingertips to his toes, and breathed profoundly as Sara rolled his finger around on her clitoris.

"Here…" she pushed his hand down along the underside of her underwear, tickling her insides with feather light teasing. Her fingers trembled upon his as she moved them, her stomach falling into a void and her eyes flashing with white remnants of ecstasy. Sara pulled his hand all the way back up her pubic region until they rested under the waistline of her panties.

Michael's head fell to her shoulder and his entire body tensed. He knew what was coming next and he exhaled a low grumble into her bare skin. "Sara…" he warned in an intensely erotic plea, his own vision blurred from longing. Sara inched their hands into her underwear, squeezing her thighs together as Michael's large, flat palm scraped over her nub.

"Here…" she gasped, the sound leaving her lips as nothing more than a whine. Michael's hand took over when she pulled hers from the lacy prison and he smeared her oozing juices up and down her entrance. Sara's back arched and her eyes were tightly closed, her mouth open and her breathing audible in the night.

Michael lifted his head and caught her lips in a blazing kiss as he dipped a thick finger into her slowly. Sara tensed slightly, his finger a little bigger then hers as he pushed into her agonisingly slowly. She was hot around his digit and her muscles spasmed with each thrust, pulling him deeper into her. Michael mimicked the movement of his finger with his tongue in her mouth before pulling apart, barely leaving her face.

Sara kept her eyes closed as her world spun around. Michael's lips hovered above hers and he leant forward into her, grinding his erection into her thigh. "You like that?" he breathed dirtily, his panting heating her face as he repeated his words from their last interaction. It had been too long and Michael was impatient. "You want two Sara?" he hissed through ground teeth as he pushed another digit into Sara's tight, hot centre.

Sara nodded with a bruising lip between her teeth as he pushed into her again. His fingers slid in and out easily after a few thrusts and her body pushed air from her lungs in time with his assault. Sara pulled Michael's face to hers again, groaning into his mouth and bucking against his hand wildly.

Michael slid his lips from hers and trailed his scorching hot tongue down her velvety soft neck. Sara's body twisted in response to both his tortures until, to her distaste, he withdrew his fingers from inside her. Her hand fell onto her forehead as her climax faded away but her skin stayed electrified as Michael kissed his way down her body over her dress.

His hands were on her thighs, gripping into her milky skin as he nestled himself between her legs. He kissed over her mound, each and every nerve ending she had yearning for his attention. He planted a wet kiss to the inside of her thigh before copying the action on the other. Sara's hand tangled itself in his hair and she whimpered on the blanket.

Michael roughly pushed her dress up around her waist and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her dripping wet panties. Sara sucked in a breath when the cool night air attacked her intense heat as Michael slid her underwear down, exposing her to his view. He pulled in his own desperate breath at her sight and paused, looking up to her drowsy expression.

"Sara…" he teased, puffing his breath onto her already excited nerve hub. Sara's eyes rolled open and met his. "I can stop if you want me to," he told her, trying desperately to mean it as she played with the hair on his neck.

"Don't you dare," she smirked and he dived into her essence hungrily. Sara's body tensed once again as her orgasm approached quickly, Michael's hands already having done most of the work. Her bottom lip quivered as she fought it off, wanting to feel his talented lips sucking on her clitoris and his muscular tongue lapping at her cordial liquids for longer. Forever.

"I'm going to come Michael…" Sara sighed with a high-pitched squeak as she bunched the nearby blanket into her fists. Michael's tongue wiggled against the ridges of her forbidden territory, pulling her closer to her climax. Sara's hand gripped at Michael's hair, not wanting to leave her unattended for a second. "I'm coming…" she screamed and shuddered beneath him.

Michael sucked at her pink flesh greedily, lapping up every last drop of her nectar. Sara panted hard, her forehead sweaty and her chest heaving as she floated back to earth, her core still twitching with faint remnants of her orgasm. Michael crawled up her body and took her mouth in his, his groin straining in his pants. He didn't mind though because this night was about Sara and it would be selfish of him to expect anything.

A whine escaped Sara's lips when she tasted herself in Michael's mouth, the whole experience more erotic than she could ever of imagined. Michael smiled at her response and it infectiously caused Sara to smile against his lips. Her eyes opened first and she coaxed Michael's open with a tender caress to his cheek. They separated, smiles still spread across their unashamed features.

"I don't remember that happening over the telephone," she joked with a raised eyebrow. Michael let out a hearty laugh and their chests bumped together with the movement.

"That…" he started brushing a strand of her auburn hair from her hazel eyes with a grin. "Was the icing on your birthday cake."


	22. Sleep Over

The movie was boring as it flashed and flickered across their faces in the dark of Michael's lounge. Neither him nor Sara had paid any attention to it, more than focusing all of their attention on what the other was doing. Michael and Sara sat squeezed onto one seat, wrapped lovingly together like parcels in ribbon. Sara rested her tired head to Michael's chest and laid her hand arm across his stomach while he pulled her closer with a strong arm around her shoulders.

Sara's father had gone out of town and for once Sara had been allowed to stay out. Amazingly, on her father's orders, Michael was her guardian for the weekend. Frank had warned him about the perils of fatherhood, should he try anything with Sara, but Frank had faith Sara was no idiot. She was too smart to rush into anything that could jeopardise the rest of her life and was well aware it only too one time to be ruined.

Michael's hand held up his head sideways, his elbow the barring point of all the weight, sinking into the couch arm. His other hand snaked under the back of Sara's shirt and he rested soft, warm fingertips to the small of her back. Immediately he felt Sara's skin jolt alive, her tiny downy hair prickling upwards, craving more attention. Sara smiled and wiggled gently when his hand tickled her.

"Stop it!" she squeaked against his chest, twisting her body to avoid his hand. Michael let out a small laugh, which rumbled through Sara as she lay on his chest. Her head bobbed up and down as his chest rose and fell, taking in his hypnotic heartbeat that pounded in his chest. Michael's hand pulled back from her sides and rested on her hip, his large palm covering most of it as they resumed their gaze on the movie.

"Did you go to prom?" Sara blurted during a silent bit in the movie. Michael cocked his head at her question.

"Of course," he said and Sara immediately felt a pang of jealousy. "Everyone goes to prom," he told her as he ran his hand lazily over her hip.

"Do you want to go again?" She asked nervously, tilting her head to look into his eyes. Michael looked into her pleading stare, his mind contemplating the possibility of a springtime high school dance where Sara arrived on his arm and they had their first slow dance.

"Sure," he agreed and she sighed a relieved breath. "I'll take you to prom," he promised with a smile. Sara smiled back and kissed him quickly before returning her gaze to the TV screen. The characters in the movie were poorly portrayed and it was turning out to be a long-winded charade that Sara found incredibly boring. It was nearly 1 AM and her eyelids began to close.

Sara shifted her position, trying desperately to keep herself awake. Her eyelids felt abnormally heavy and she twitched each time she felt her head sliding down Michael's body as she fell deeper under sleep's spell. Michael pressed his knees together as Sara moved to rest her head on his lap, her body shuffling sideways to stretch out on his comfortable coach.

"Tired?" Michael asked her in a soft tone, his hand stroking her silky soft hair as it spilled across his lap. Sara's hand rested lightly on his knee in front of her face and she murmured an agreeing answer with a slow nod. Her eyes fell closed once more, the sound of the movie faded away.

Michael studied her peaceful presence, her angelic figure and the way she took long breaths accompanied by a soft snoring sound. The corner of his mouth turned upwards and he brushed his knuckled down her smooth cheek. "I could sleep if you stopped molesting me," she groaned sleepily, her eyes staying firmly closed.

Michael's smile broadened and he leant forward to rest his lips next to her ear. "I could stop if you weren't so absolutely beautiful," he breathed playfully. Sara's body tingled as his warm breath condensed on her ear lobe and neck and her eyebrow twitched as her eyes pretended to open.

"Compliments will not get you any action mister," Sara teased half heartedly as her body remained heavy and non responsive.

"No?" Michael whispered full of false hope. Sara's head rubbed his thigh as she tried to shake it, the action unsuccessful to say the least. Michael closed the gap between them, his lips connecting with the pulse that bubbled beneath her neck. He kissed the skin slow and deliberately, purposely leaving her neck wet and aching. "How about that?" he said slyly, pulling his head back so he could take in her expression.

Sara's lips curled into a smile she tried to hide. "It definitely gets you points," she breathed, her skin protesting to her tiredness as it called out for Michael's contact. "But no action," she said firmly against his pants. Michael pouted with a playful growl.

"How about a kiss then?" he teased, pressing a flat palm to her stomach as he leant forward once more. The bottom of Sara's stomach fell away and her body begged him never to let go in case he wasn't there to catch her if she fell. Sara laid still for a long while, relishing in the thought of Michael begging. She inhaled hard as she pushed herself into a sit, her messy hair poking out in all directions.

Michael looked at her with a questioning glance as she stood from the couch and walked behind it to his bedroom. She pulled the doors aside and dragged her feet across the floor to the bathroom. Michael's head fell back onto the couch as he watched her upside down body lurch across his floor to the bedroom. Michael smiled and darted from his seat, almost skipping to the bedroom. When he peered through the doors, she was gone and all he heard was the sound of the toilet flushing behind a blue door.

Michael moved into the room and took up residence on his bed across from the bathroom door as he waited her return. He leant back on his hands, his eyes fixated on the handle for any sign she was to emerge. As the plumbing sounds disappeared she appeared and then vanished into darkness when she pulled the light switch to off. Her eyes were half open and she had combed down her hair slightly. She had changed into some thin, pink pyjama pants and a strappy top for bed.

"How about that kiss?" he persisted with a grin and Sara couldn't ignore him anymore. She dramatically heaved her sleepy being to his bed where she crawled upwards and sat astride his legs. Michael itched with excitement as she straddled him, his hand leaving the bedclothes to cup her behind. Sara took his face in her hands and pressed her smile to his.

Michael hummed against her mouth with satisfaction, which made Sara giggle against his. Her giggle turned into a laugh when his hands roamed her back, first over then under her top, his tender touch burning straight through her. Michael stole an opportunity and pushed his tongue into her open mouth, begging for more attention.

Sara's tongue met his and they massaged each other with long, slow movements. Sara's hands left Michael's face and landed in his shoulders, pulling him closer to her with each thrust of her tongue. Michael kissed her hungrily, his hands straying to her muscular thighs that held his waist and ground her core against his throbbing member. His strong hands gripped at her knees each time his stroking motion ended there and he sucked in desperate breaths.

Sara licked her lips as she pulled from him, much to his protest, and studied his face. His eyes were closed with desire and his lips were swollen and wet. Michael's eyes fluttered open and met hers, which were alight with a passionate flare. Without a word, Sara fell down sideways and scurried up the bed to hide herself under his thick, blue covers.

Michael fell back onto the covers with a frustrated sigh, his hands covering his eyes as he tried to will his erection away before he grew too hard. Sara smirked into the pillow, a low chuckle escaping her mouth. "You're so horny," she cooed as he stood, dropped his pants and walked around the bed in just a pair of cotton boxers. Michael threw back the covers, chilling her back as he climbed in behind her.

"And you're a tease," he pressed against her as he spoke, his voice full of annoyance that Sara found quite funny.

"You only wanted a kiss," she reminded him in a flirty tone as her closed eyes imagined him totally naked against her body. Michael wound his tanned arm around her stomach and pulled her to him closer, nestling his face to her neck with a grumble. There was no gap between their bodies as the lay in the darkness, both content with the other. Sara rested her hand on top of Michael's as it held her to him and he laced his fingers with hers.

"Goodnight Sara," he mumbled against her skin as his own tiredness over took him. No answer came from Sara as she snored softly into the night. The moon was full tonight and it spilled through the small uncovered window of Michael's room. It poured its luminescence across them, defining two bodies as one as they held each other tightly, never wanting to let go.


	23. Shopping

Sara's stared at her reflection in the full length mirror before her and sighed. It was hideous. The arm ruffles poked out awkwardly and the skirt flared out like a tutu. It was pink, the colour she really wanted, but it was all wrong. Her face contorted with contemplation but she already knew the answer to her mind's question.

"No?" Her friend called over the faded blue curtain as she waited outside the changing room. Sara's silence had been a sure sign she didn't like this one.

"No," Sara said sarcastically as she pulled the curtain back, it brass rings scraping the metallic pole they were looped on. Her friend's hand covered her face and a stopped laugh that threatened to escape. Sara narrowed her eyes and bit the inside of her mouth as she pulled the curtain closed again roughly.

"Try the next one," her friend suggested with a raised voice as she browsed some near by dresses. They had come to the best shop in town for wedding and prom dresses, a little corner boutique called Presi's that stocked everything for him and her on that special day. Sara had her date for the prom so all she needed now was a dress. She also had Frank's credit card with no limit.

Sara dropped the ruffled mess to the floor with a scuffling noise as the shiny material rubbed against itself. Stepping from it she picked it up and threaded it back onto the decorative padded hanger before passing it to her friend outside. Her bare arm pulled back into the cubicle and she clumsily undressed the next hanger in the confined space.

"So what's Michael wearing?" her friend called, taking up a seat on a stool in front of the curtain and flicking through a wedding magazine. Sara pulled on the next dress and zipped up the side, breathing out and flattening some wrinkles in the material.

"Uh…" she stuttered unfocused on the question. "He hasn't said," she revealed, suddenly wondering what he was actually going to wear. "I'm assuming a tux?" she told her friend, half a question and half wondering.

"Of course he'll wear a tux," her friend told her with a giggle. "And he'll look so good!" she purred in a squeak. Sara smiled and spun around in the changing room, reached up and yanked the curtain back. Her friend looked up and closed the magazine she was reading. Her face screwed up and she cupped her chin in her hand as if she had a beard. "I don't know," she confessed, cocking her head sideways.

"Me either," Sara said honestly, spinning to look at the dress in the mirror again. It was two colours, the skirt one and the bodice another. The skirt was less bouncy than the last but it was white, a colour Sara was really trying to avoid. The bodice was her favourite part, a plum purple corset type device that had delicate white embroidery around the bust line. She pressed her hands to her hips as she studied it.

"Maybe not," her friend told her finally making her decision. "It's kind of wedding dressy," she told Sara. Sara saw her point and although she though it looked fantastic, it was all wrong for her prom. Her friend pushed herself up off the stool, shuffled Sara back into the cubicle and yanked the curtain closed. "Next," she bellowed, leaving Sara no time to reconsider the dress.

Sara changed again, redressing the hanger and passing the dress to her friend through the curtain. She saw the next dress, a light blue number with an exposed lattice type back, thin straps and a long flat skirt. It was made of silk and felt divine to touch but the colour was not what Sara was looking for. She picked it off the hook where it hung, and held it out to her gaze.

"I like the blue one," Sara's friend called through the dividing curtain. Sara studied it longer, wishing it was another colour.

"Me too but I don't want blue," she confessed. "It's too cold," she said passing the dress though the barrier again. Her friend took it and shrugged, hanging it on a nearby rail. A shop assistant watched intently, spying the young girls with a suspicious glare. Her friend gave her a quick smile and inched her face closer to the edge of the curtain. 

"I think the woman thinks we are just trying on dresses for fun," she giggled pulling the curtain aside as Sara pulled on the next dress. Her friend looked her up and down, stepping in to zip up the back. It was a peau de soie satin, rose red strapless gown and the material was folded at the bust making a neat seem. It had two sewn seems down the body piece and Sara studied her reflection with awe. "Wow," her friend breathed looking into the mirror.

"You think?" Sara asked, nervously patting her hands down the material and flattening her hair.

"Yes," her friend told her firmly. "And Michael will go insane," she smirked at the reflection. Sara smiled broadly at the thought before reality struck her as she sadly read the price tag.

"Its three hundred and fifty dollars," she sighed dropping the tag with a pout. "And that's without shoes and stuff," she huffed, resigned to the fact she wouldn't be taking this one home.

"Pfft!" her friend exclaimed. "Your dad said no limit, remember?"

"Well, yeah but I didn't want to…" she began but her friend cut her off loudly.

"Don't be crazy! He wants you to enjoy the evening," she said quickly. "Thus the no limit thing," she smiled with a twinkle in her eye. Sara grinned and observed herself in the mirror one more time. The bouffant skirt just touched the floor and the exposed back taped to a delicate point on the small of her back.

"I'll need red shoes," Sara said suddenly and her friend squealed with joy.

"You're going to be the most beautiful person at the prom," She said as she hugged her friend tight. "Michael is very lucky," She grinned.


	24. The Prom Part 1

Butterflies fluttered in Sara's stomach as she brushed her fine features with a fine layer of skin coloured dust. She didn't wear makeup very often but tonight was a special occasion and she wanted to look her best for Michael. He had told her on countless occasions how beautiful she was but there was always a niggling feeling at the back of mind that told her he was just flattering her.

With one last swipe of lipstick, Sara pouted at her reflection, pressed her lips to a thin scrap of tissue paper and smiled. She was going to a prom. The prom. With Michael and there was no other feeling in the world that compared to how she felt right now. Her body flushed with a mixture of fear and insecurities when her cell phone on her desk jumped to life. It jiggled across the wooden surface as it vibrated, the caller Id shouting "Michael" into her eyes.

"Hello?" she asked nervously, her heart skipping a needed beat.

"Hey," Michael breathed, his velvety voice combing her being. "How's it going?" he asked casually, obviously referring to her pre prom duties.

"I'm all ready," she told him excitedly, glancing at her bedside clock. "How about you?" she prodded.

"Well," he began, extended the syllable. "I was nearly at your door when I had to stop," he told her with a smirk.

Sara arched her brow confused. "Why?" she asked a little irritated. He was going to be late and he was acting like it was a game. "Where are you?" she quizzed as she paced her room, her brand new open toed heels sinking into the cream floor covering.

Michael looked around him, swiping his body through condensed breath and he exhaled. "Well it looks like some kind of grassy area," he said grinning harder into the phone. "And I have just seen the most beautiful thing ever pass before my eyes," he confessed, his voice smooth and seductive.

Sara froze and turned to her bedroom window. In a few steps she was there, looking down onto her father's marvellously trimmed lawns to where Michael stood with his cell phone pressed to his ear, twiddling a paper rose in between his finger and thumb. He looked up, their eyes meeting and an open mouthed smile spreading across his face. Michael licked his lips at the sight of her hanging over her window frame, her strapless dress pushing more than an eyeful of cleavage his way. "See, nearly at your door," he pointed a finger towards it with another grin.

Sara snapped her phone shut and threw it to the bed as she fled her room, flicking the light off as she passed it. Her heels clicked furiously on the marbled staircase and her hand gripped the rail to stop her falling. Michael pushed his phone into his jacket pocket as he bounded towards the front door, awaiting her presence. Sara reached out and laid a hand on the handle, exhaling hard before she pushed it down.

The door swung open and Michael was taken back by Sara's image. Her dress was beautiful. It was almost to the floor and the material looked so luxurious he wanted to reach out and know what she felt like under it. Her bare shoulders were uninterrupted because her hair had been twisted into a decoratively simple knot on the back on her head and her fine toes poked out from her matching shoes. Her entire outfit was red and it ignited his urges deep inside.

He blinked a few times and she gave him a twirl. "You like?" she grinned coyly.

Michael stepped into the lobby, his eyes on fire as she fuelled his gaze. "I love it," he exclaimed handing her the delicate rose. "It's perfect for this," he told her producing a small box from behind his back. Sara gave him a quizzical look and took the box from him, carefully sliding the bottom away from the top. Sara gasped at what she saw, her hands touching the white gold shakily.

"Michael," she breathed stunned. "I can't accept this," she said sadly, raising her gaze to meet his. Michael smiled and took the necklace from the box, stepping behind her. The heart shaped ruby hung down her breastbone surrounded by tiny clear jewels, more of which were spaced up the sides of the chain.

"You're worth a million diamond and ruby necklaces," he breathed into her ear, fixing the clasp. Sara touched the necklace once more and her eyes fluttered closed when Michael pressed a soft kiss to the base of her neck. "Don't ever forget that," he whispered. Sara turned around to face him again, his eyes serious and full of love.

"Michael, I don't know what to say," she stammered. "It's so gorgeous," she smiled at him. Michael smoothed his large palms over her shoulders and grinned at her excitedly.

"I have one more surprise," he told her mischievously taking her hand in his and pulling her out onto her front porch. Sara's jaw dropped open when a small man tipped his hat to her as he stood next to a polished black limousine. The man was dressed in a white drivers suit, his black buttons and accessories contrasting the rest of the suit. Michael gripped Sara hand tightly as they walked down her front steps and onto the gravel driveway.

Sara was speechless and even more so when the aging man pulled the rear door open to reveal a lavishly decorated red interior and white leather seats. Michael led Sara into the limo, her eyes wide as she took in everything he had organised for her. She sank into the corner seat, running a hand across the polished mahogany surfaces and feeling the soft furry floor tickling her toes. Michael took a seat next to her as the door closed behind them and reached for the door to the mini fridge.

Sara's already surprised expression met his once more as he took her hand again, this time slipping a red rose corsage onto her wrist. "Michael…" Sara repeated his name once more, it escaping her lips barely audibly. Michael squeezed her hand as the limo set off stealthily, no movement shaking the back of the vehicle.

"I know," he smiled interlocking his fingers with hers and placing a kiss to the back on her hand before dropping them onto his lap. "I know," he repeated, staring into her soul with his caring blue green eyes. Sara couldn't thank him enough in words and leant sideways, pulling his face to hers with her free hand for a fiery kiss. Her non-smudge lipstick held fast as she ravaged his lips, stroking the side of his clean shaven face as she did so. He gave her a quick smile when they parted, wrapped his strong arm around her tiny figure and pulled her to him. Sara rested her head on his shoulder, a wide smile gracing her lips as they travelled in a silence that spoke volumes to each of them.

The prom itself was to be held at a nearby five star hotel, the high school having rented the huge ballroom for the evening. _Gibson's _was a world renowned hotel chain famous for its extravagant ball rooms and Chicago's was no exception. As Michael and Sara walked through the huge archway into the main event they were both taken back by the remarkably detailed ceiling art as the expensive old-fashioned chandeliers illuminated it.

A flash to her side caught Sara attention and she caught sight of the photographer posing the next couple for their photograph. She tugged on Michael arm and they joined the queue of over sexed teenagers as the band played in the next hall. The line quickly dropped in size and soon Sara and Michael were thrown under the decorated arch for their everlasting moment on photo paper. Michael wrapped his arms protectively around Sara as she pressed her back to him, both standing slightly sideways to face the middle aged photographer. "Smile kids!" the over enthusiastic man yelled from behind the huge lens before a flash filled their eyes and he ushered them on.

As they entered the hall dinner had already been served and waiters were busily removing plates from the round tables. Sara and Michael had purposely missed dinner, having decided that a more intimate meal between just the two of them would be much better before making their way to the prom. Sara scanned the room for her friend as she pulled Michael around the edge of the room in the shadows. She let out a giggle when she spied her friend already dancing on the neatly polished floor.

"Come on," she called to Michael over the music and he followed her obediently. Sara tapped her friend on the shoulder who hugged her tight when she saw her. Her boyfriend and Michael shook hands and greeted one another in deep, manly voices that penetrated the music easily.

"You look amazing," Sara told her eying her dress. It was a light green halter dress with a strappy lattice back that exposed her skin fully. She wore matching strappy heels and a quaint diamante choker. Her friend smiled at Sara having already seen her dress and glanced at Michael, her eyebrows wiggling excitedly.

"I know," Sara laughed to her friend, reading her mind in anticipation of her comment. Her gaze fell on Michael where it lingered, taking in his existence. He shifted under her gaze as her eyes devoured him hungrily, taking in every inch of him with a predatory stare. His pressed tux fitted perfectly, the finely tailored mandarin collar fitting close to his neck and his white shirt just leaving the bottom of his sleeves. He wore a blood red four button vest and his black pants had a satin side stripe that matched the edge of his jacket. Finally his hair had been shaven short to how Sara liked it.

"What?" Michael mouthed at her silently with a smirk as coloured lights blinked across their bodies. Sara left her friend and grinned at him wider as she approached, her head held low and her eyes rolled up to meet his. Michael's body reacted instantly when she laid a tentative hand to his chest and he instinctively rested a warm hand to her back, laid his other over hers and pulled her closer.

Sara rested an arm over his shoulder, placed her hand to the back of his soft, downy neck and pulled his face closer to hers. Her breath tickled his ear as she spoke, whispering silky words into his subconscious that he heard as clear as day over the pounding band. "Thank you," she said simply before planting a damp kiss to his earlobe. Michael's hand pressed harder into her back as he needed them to be closer and he pulled his head back so his lips rested outside of her ear.

"What for?" he teased, playing the dumb card. Sara pressed her head to his and rolled it so that their foreheads were touching and they were eye to eye.

"For everything," she told him seriously, her smile wilting from her face as her hazel orbs bore into him. Michael lost his own smile as they stood in the crowd, communicating with only the twitching of their eyes and a flickering of lip movements. "This is the best day of my life," she confessed, looping her tiny fingers around Michael thumb as their hands rested to his heart.

"Your welcome," he smiled at her and pressed a kiss to her eager lips. The band announced the introduction of a slow dance and half the men vacated the floor for the punch bowl. Hoards of irritated girls slumped back to their dining seats with crosses arms and annoyed looks at their partners who revelled in pouring alcohol into the fruit cocktail with laughter. "Dance with me," Michael commanded with a hoarse drizzle of a voice, pulling Sara backwards towards the centre of the floor.

Sara melted into Michael embrace as she tucked her head under his chin and he swayed them in time with the music. It was slow and they became lost in the romance, neither saying a word. Michael closed his eyes as his cheek pressed against Sara's silky soft auburn hair and his hand roamed the bare skin on her back. Sara gripped at his jacket and leant further into his touch, her own eyes pressed tightly closed as the feel of their bare skins touching set her on fire.


	25. The Prom part 2 M

Sara pulled her head back slowly, gazing into Michael's welcoming eyes as the song played around them. Their world fell away and left them standing together in the void, holding each other with all the longing they had ever felt. "I have a surprise for you too," Sara confessed to Michael as the song faded out to its end. He narrowed his eyes and gave her a worried smile. "Follow me," she told him and left the floor.

Michael did as he was told, following her unquestioningly from the hall, past the photographer who was packing up his equipment and out into the lobby. The air was cold because one door has been propped open to cool the staff, the thick woven uniforms overheating them easily with the extra bodies in the building. Sara leant on the high black stone desk and the clerk smiled a broad, toothy grin at her and handed her a card. "Governor Tancredi's room is 214," she said cheerfully. "Have a nice evening," she added quirkily.

Sara nodded a thank you and took Michael's hand. He gave her an apprehensive look but followed her lead as they stopped outside the elevators. Sara's heels echoed through the empty lobby as she tapped them impatiently on the stone floor, waiting for the steel box to arrive. "Sara where are we going?" Michael asked her as the elevator doors opened and she stepped inside.

"Room 214," she told him, the button she pressed lighting up beneath her finger like a firefly. Cheesy music filled the square cage as it lurched to life and was pulled up the shaft on steel cables.

"Why?" he asked confused. She turned to him confidently and fiddled with the white card in her hands, the company's name printed in the corner of it. His face was flushed red and Michael was afraid he had done something wrong and Sara was scorning him like a bad puppy.

"I told you," she said as the elevator chimed and the doors pulled apart once more. "I have a surprise, and if you want it, follow me," she grinned, stepping out of the solid elevator onto luxurious blue carpet that lined the hall. Room 214 was at the end of the hall and the sound of their footsteps was eaten away by the expensive carpet under their feet. Michael looked around him for any sign there was a surprise at the end on this journey, but all he saw were white doors and more white doors.

Room 214 had a different door, a dark red one with brass numbers and a tiny magnifying glass spy hole. The door had been painted recently, the red clashing with the blue of the carpet hideously. There was no keyhole on the door, just a large brushed chrome handle and a swipe card outlet attached beside it.

"Will I like it?" Michael asked Sara, regarding his surprise with some thought as he tickled the back of her neck playfully with his lips. Sara pushed the key card through the device and a green light indicated its acceptance and the door clicked. She pushed the handle down and the door opened.

"Oh I think so," Sara smiled to herself as she stepped into the room. Michael bit his tongue and growled low in his chest. Sara was a tease and he was hopeless at ignoring the unknown. He had to know everything or it drove him insane, just like now as he followed her into the room, pushing the door closed behind him and searching the room.

The room was obviously expensive. The carpet had moulded into a deep red colour underneath their feet and was twice and thick as out in the hallway. The floor space was expansive and two huge square cream coloured columns held the ceiling from the floor. There was a mini bar like no other, each miniscule bottle of spirit replaced with fine wines from all over the world at an inclusive room price. Michael's gaze followed Sara as she went behind a stone wall that divided the room into two.

Removing his jacket and throwing it over a nearby bar stool he followed her into a lavishly decorated bedroom. A huge queen size bed fitted with black satin sheets jumped into view and every surface of the room held a short red candle on it. Sara began lighting them, moving her way around the room as Michael watched from the doorway, his entire body excited and scared at the same time. He folded his arms and shot a quick glance to the door over his shoulder.

"It only opens from the inside," Sara told him lighting the last candle. His head snapped back to her as she swayed towards him, kicking off her shoes as she moved. "Unless you have the key card," she held up her hand, the thin white object tucked between two fingers. Michael chuckled and stepped forward, closing the gap between them and capturing her mouth in a kiss. It was hot and full of passion as Michael released his tension into Sara's mouth. His hand darted up and blindly fumbled for the card she held which he took and tossed onto the dresser beside him before backing her towards the bed.

Sara giggled against his lips as she stumbled and he caught her. Michael's breathing increased and he groaned with disappointment when Sara turned them around and pulled from his kiss. "Ok I have to give you your surprise," she said preoccupied with unbuttoning his vest which she yanked off of his shoulders.

"Which is?" Michael breathed huskily as her hands carefully unbuttoned his shirt and she ripped the two edges apart to marvel at his naked form beneath.

"Um…" she paused, staring at his abdomen as his breathing quickened under her touch. Her head spun and she couldn't think straight. Michael's body was delicious and her own tingled with unrest as she looked forward into her prom night plan. Michael took her hands from his shirt, shaking her back to reality.

"Do you want this on or off?" he grinned at her whilst pulling his shirt half over his shoulders. Sara blushed and hid her face in her hands, leaning it forward until it rested on his chest. With his arms tangled in his sleeves, Michael hugged her and laughed, the sound vibrating through Sara from his chest.

"I'm sorry," she said through her laughter. "Take it off and I'll go get your surprise," she told him as she backed away from him towards a closed door. Michael kept eye contact but wrenched his arms from the white cotton sleeves and dropped his shirt to the floor with his vest. Sara disappeared behind the door with a wicked smile and Michael fell onto the edge of the bed. He pulled his feet from his shoes without unlacing them and threw them aside, his socks soon following and joining them by the doorframe of the room.

Michael had no idea why they were here in the Governor's sweet. As he gazed around the room he doubted the Governor actually ever used this room for anything besides meetings with out of town associates. It smelt slightly musty, like it had been closed for a long time, and it was damp cold, like when someone leaves the window open in your car overnight in the winter. Michael tapped his fingertips on the edge of the mattress impatiently. "Sara," he called to the closed door. "What's my surprise?" he was silenced as the door swung open and Sara stepped into view.

Michael's jaw dropped when he saw her and he salivated like a rabid dog, jumping to his feet. Her hand rested above her head against the doorframe, a square blue condom packet in between her fine boned fingers. Her smooth, milky skin shone through a lacy strapless bra and underwear set she wore without shyness. He gulped down a lump that had formed in his throat as his eyes roamed her perfectly shaped body, each and every curve yet to be explored. Their eyes met again when she padded towards him his breath hitching nervously when she laid a delicate hand to his naked chest. "I'm ready," she purred seductively and Michael exploded inside, plucking her hand from his chest and pulling her closer to him. "Surprise," she breathed as their body hit one another, the words escaping her body on hurried air.

Michael suddenly felt panicky as they stared into one another's eyes, their bodies touching and the thin fabric of Sara's underwear tickling his bare skin. His chest quickly rose and fell and Sara's breasts heaved with the same action. Their lips were almost touching; their eyes pinpointed on each other's open mouthed expressions. Michael was frozen. Sara's words echoed in his head, sinking into every surface they touched. She was ready to give herself to him and her intense stare, her loving touch and her sultry voice told him never to question this moment as long as he lived.

Michael watched as Sara reached up behind her head and pulled a chopstick style clip from her hair letting it cascade over her bare shoulders as she gave her head a shake. She was gorgeous, everything he had ever imagined and then some, especially with the obviously planned sexy lingerie. He pushed her hair from her face and cupped her cheeks with his shaking hands, bringing her lips to his. The kiss was slow and languid, their lips parting on each peck to allow their tongues the chance to meet.

Michael's hands left Sara's face and trailed down her shoulders agonisingly slowly and then down her arms where they jumped to her hips. Sara's hands found his neck and she pulled his head closer to hers, demolishing his lips with her own ravenous kisses. Michael tasted like a fine wine in her mouth, swishing his intoxicating flavour across her teeth with his muscular tongue.

Sara let out a groan as Michael sat on the bed and she followed him. He fell backwards onto the black satin sheets and Sara climbed over his body, recapturing his mouth greedily. Michael's hands strayed down her sides, the friction between their skins leaving a tepid shadow down her body. This was it, the moment of truth. Michael clutched at her bare back as he met her tongue's thrusts and Sara set him ablaze with her soft erotic moans and the way she squirmed on top of him.

His hands found her bra and danced around the claps, teasing Sara's skin as they threatened to release her tender breasts. His fingers picked at the two sides of her bra and pinched them together professionally, releasing the elastic and letting the two sides fall away from each other. Sara tugged her arms from the scrap of material and discarded it to one side barely letting their bodies leave each other.

In one swift action Michael rolled them over pinning Sara to the bed. Her hair spilled out in all directions and she gripped at Michael's shoulders wanting him closer. Michael hauled his lips from hers, panting hard as he took in her body beneath his. His rested his elbows on either side of her delicate body as his eyes fell between them to her bosom. Sara's heartbeat was visible under her skin as it moved her entire breast with each pounding pump.

Michael hesitated for only a second before his mouth seized her hardened nipple and he began to suck on the skin gently. Sara arched her back in response, pushing her body closer to his avid attention. Her hands ran over his soft hairy scalp and held his face to her chest as his tongue flicked at the pink nub. Michael trailed a line with his tongue between her breasts as he moved across her body, taking her other nipple in his mouth.

Sara writhed beneath him, grabbing at her hair with one of her hand and pulling on the red locks gently. Her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth hung open, her lips moist from constant licking and biting. Her hand went to her mouth and she bit down on her finger, sucking on it afterwards and running the wet digit down her neck to Michael's face.

He slumped back up her body and apprehended her lips once more, taking her hands and pushing them to the bed sheets beside her head. Sara let out an excitedly sexy giggle against Michael's mouth as he gripped at her wrists harder, pushing his evident erection against her lace underwear. Sara had never felt so electrically charged or so wanton. She wanted Michael right now and her core ached for him.

Michael released one of her hands and pushed it down in between their bodies with his. He unbuttoned his pants and then took Sara's hand and shoved it into his boxers with silent begging. Sara's hand brushed his member and she stroked it slowly, twisting her wrist on each long rub to awaken his sensitive nerves. Michael thrust his hips into her hand gently and gripped at the sheets beside her head as he broke the kiss and groaned through ground teeth into her neck.

"Oh god Sara…" he whispered, his voice shaky and breaking every time her palm brushed his tip. Michael's stomach was sucked in with a much needed breath and his hand hovered above Sara's but Sara pulled it from his boxers at the signal. Michael smiled against her soft white skin and dragged his lips to hers again, planting a quick kiss there before he let his eyes roam her face. "Thank you," he said through a crooked smile, the words referring to his pleasure and his relief.

"You're welcome," Sara told him, her eyes flickering over his hazy blue orbs. Nothing could be heard in the room and the sound proof glass kept out the harsh, uncaring world. The room was dark apart from the candles and the flames danced and jumped on the wicks, casting irregular shadows across the room. Michael lay pressed on top of Sara and he brushed a slightly damp tendril of auburn from her brow.

"We can stop at anytime," he told her softly as he kicked his now creasing pants off his legs. "We don't have to do this," he told her caressing her cheek with the back of his hand. Sara's hand stopped his and she gripped it firmly.

"I want to do this," she said seriously and tugged off his black boxers with her tiny feet. "I want to do this with you," she said before capturing his mouth in another fiery kiss. Michael kissed her back eagerly and yanked at her teeny French knickers with his heavy hands. Sara lifted her behind off the sheets to allow him to remove them easier and he threw them aside without heed.

Their bodies we hot and sticky as they pressed against each other and they both panted hard, their moans and hard breaths the only sound to fill the room. Michael shifted his body and moved his knee upwards to part Sara's smooth legs. The cold air in the room attacked her hot, wet centre and she moved to follow Michael's command and spread her legs further. Michael tore at the condom packet quickly and rolled the latex over his rock solid penis.

Sara's breath hitched in her throat when she felt Michael position himself at her entrance, the rubbery tip pressing into her sodden folds. Michael looked directly into Sara's eyes and washed the fear fall away when she gave him a small smile. "Are you ready?" he asked, somehow suppressing his own burning desires. Sara nodded and Michael pushed forward gently.

Sara inhaled hard as he entered her in tiny increments, studying her face with every push. It was torturous for Michael but all he cared about was Sara. He wanted her first time to be special and not something she would regret for the rest of her life. He froze when he face contorted into a wince and lolled to the side, her eyes pressed closed tightly.

"Hey," he soothed, cupping a bent finger under her chin and bringing her gaze back to his. His body shuddered as he strained to hold his position half inside of her tight, scorching core and half outside. "Want me to stop?" he asked in a concerned tone. Sara shook her head and bit her bottom lip as she stretched to Michael's girth.

"I'm ok," she wept, a single tear escaping her eye. "It's just…painful," she told him but laid a reassuring hand to his arm. Michael wiped away her tear with his thumb and kissed her salty skin where it had fallen. He angled his hips and pushed in further, whispering bittersweet apologies against Sara's face with every agonising movement. Finally he was inside of her to the hilt and he relaxed when he saw she had not shed any more tears.

"Still ok?" he asked, willing her eyes open again with his words. Sara's eyes met his once more and she nodded a trembling head, her lip quivering as she held in more tears of pain. Michael gave her a smile and laced his fingers in hers. "Relax. It gets better from now on," he promised as he withdrew from her slowly and pushed into her once more.

Sara did as she was told and her body went limp under Michael. He was right, it did feel better after a few slow thrusts and she hooked her leg over his and ran her curled toes over his hairy calves. Michael panted hard with each thrust, the tenderness and deliberate speed wreaking havoc on his own senses. Michael had always enjoyed slow sex because of the way it was that much more intimate than any other kind.

Sara's expression changed from pain to pleasure as Michael drove into her compassionately. She let out a small sigh each time he entered her and her skin came alive when he gripped her hip with a strong hand. His mouth hovered above hers, foreheads resting against each other as they made sweet love on the luxurious bedclothes. Each time Michael entered her centre he ground his teeth together, fighting his orgasm back. He wanted to see Sara succumb first and relish in the delight on her face.

Sara's let out soft squeals as Michael pulled her hips down onto him each time. She was tight but slick with fluid as he moved in her, each thrust brining her closer to her release. Sara felt the familiar tingle in her stomach and a build up of pressure as her muscles contracted around Michael. He watched her face as her breathing became more rapid and her mouth dropped open to gulp in air. He knew she was coming so he let himself go.

Michael's vision blurred and he caught Sara's mouth in a last searing kiss as he cam, his seed spilling into the tip of the condom. Sweat coated their bodies as Michael kept pushing into her throbbing core, each pull of her muscles milking his ejaculate from him. A grunt escaped his lips as he left Sara's and rested his damp forehead to her shoulder.

Sara wrapped her arms around him, stroking the soft hair down his neck, as they lay, spent and content with Michael still inside of her. Neither wanted the other to pull away and if they could of laid like it forever, they would have. Eventually Michael slipped from her still dripping centre and crawled up beside her. Sara had never felt so whole and she pressed herself against Michael for another kiss.

"You're so amazing," he told her as he laid a hand across her flat stomach. Sara rested her hand of his and studied them as he interlocked their fingers tightly. "I love you," he breathed, afraid of her reaction. Sara's head snapped to his as he said the words she had been longing to hear for so long.

"I love you too," she breathed and all the heartache they had suffered melted away, absorbed by the love they felt for each other. They had experienced life and what it meant to be in love. Michael had loved her from the moment he saw her and nearly lost everything because of his own stupidity and her now irrelevant lie. Sara had given him a part of herself that no one else could ever touch. He was her first lover and her soul mate.


	26. EpilogueGraduation M

The June silence was filled with applause as the first student's name was called and they made they way across the stage. Graduation was here, nearly four weeks after the prom and the first night of Michael and Sara's consummation of their relationship. Since then they had been so much closer, physically and emotionally. When they weren't together they were thinking of each other and "I love you" had never been said so often and meant so much.

Frank Tancredi's aging hands met each other with a smack, the vibration shooting through his body and making his entire being bounce on his folded seating. Two men in black suits wore earpieces and stood to the side of the seated crowd. Their eyes scanned the crowd, each time glazing over the Governor's seat and then recognisance being fed into their sleeves. Frank ignored them. Bodyguards had become a daily part of his life.

Michael was seated right next to the governor and his hands made a duller sound as they collided in the air. His eyes never left Sara's as she sat seated with her class of one side of the stage ready to take her diploma once her name was called. She flashed him a smile every once in a while and he smiled back. Hers was mischievous, and sly but Michael was so far away he had no idea why.

His pocket vibrated as his cell phone jiggled to life, silent in his pants. Casually he retrieved the device and looked at the display. He had one new message and upon entering his inbox found it was from Sara. He glanced up at her and she averted her eyes from his with a smirk. Michael's eyes fell back to the phone and he opened the message.

"Guess what?" it said simply so he replied with the obvious question.

Sara's cell phone buzzed in her hands and she was thankful she was at the end of the alphabet behind the rest of her year. The students in front of her didn't take notice of her texting, mainly because they were doing the self same thing, equally as bored by the ceremony. She flipped open her cell and opened the message. "What?" was Michael's reply.

Sara bit her bottom lip as she replied, her whole body tingling with the thought of telling Michael her secret. A secret that only the two of them would know. Michael gripped at his phone eagerly awaiting her response. When it began to vibrate he wasted no time in opening the media. "No panties." was her text reply accompanied by a wink.

Michael's head snapped up and their eyes met once again. Sara gave him a real wink, her bottom lip still tucked under her teeth in a teasing look. Michael's mouth curled up at the corners and his heart sped up with excitement. He didn't reply to the message. Instead he tucked his phone back into his pocket and continued to stare at her entrancing image even more.

Sara was like a pawn, dressed in a black gown and mortarboard cap. Her hair was down and slightly curled, each curl bouncing off her shoulders like rain drops off the ground. In the middle of the morning, the sun was bright and her hair shone a bright orange as the rays struck each fibre. Under the gown she was wearing a smart blouse that was pink with three quarter length sleeves and a knee length black skirt.

Michael's hand struck each other harder as more and more students moved across the stage and exposed Sara behind them like a puzzle. Sara had her legs crossed and her delicate hands patted together in congratulations of her class members. Michael was surging with adrenaline, his entire body reacting to her image as he imagined her so much more compromised, naked and under his torturous hands.

One of Sara's legs slipped from the other and she opened her legs slowly before crossing them again opposite to before. Michael's eyes went wide and he gulped a dry lump down his throat when he caught sight of her through the mass of folded chairs, her soft dark curls easily mistaken for black panties to any other crowd member.

Sara pouted her lips into a kiss and grinned down at Michael. His breathing became quick and he was sweating, the mere thought of Sara so exposed sending all his rational thoughts from his mind. Sara loved what she did to him and enjoyed teasing him to test his limits. It nearly always ended well for the both of them and made their relationship much more interesting.

"Sara Tancredi," the principle called and she pushed herself from her chair and made her way across the stage. Her heels clicked on the aged but recently polished wooden surface and she pushed her hair back from her face. Michael watched her glide over the stage, her brilliantly perfect figure like a drug he had become addicted to.

Both Michael and Frank clapped harder and as if on cue, Frank's bodyguards absently applauded their second charge whilst eyeing the stage for potential threats. Sara reached out and took the yellowy paper roll in one hand whilst shaking the principles hand with the other. The diploma was generically tied with a red ribbon seal and was identical for every student apart from his or her names being different.

Making her way across to her next seat Sara glanced at Michael and her father supporting the graduation with overactive applause. Her father's face was flushed pink as he fought back tears and Michael's face was full of want and a hazy aura hung over him. His mouth was open slightly and his eyes never left hers as he panted silently, his entire body itching for her touch.

Sara lifted a closed fist to her face and coughed into it falsely, her index finger extending outwards towards the car park and her eye flickering between it and Michael. His face filled with confusion for a second while he contemplated her signal, searching the car park for what she pointed to so subtly. Finally his eyes fell upon the unlocked and unguarded limo that they had arrived in courtesy of her father's political position.

Michael's face lit up when he realised what Sara was trying to say and his heart pounded in his chest. He felt hot and tiny beads of sweat began forming on his forehead. As the last student's name was called his ceased clapping and rested a strong, clammy palm to Frank's shoulder. "Excuse me," he said with a smile rising from his seat.

"Of course," Frank chirped and continued clapping. The crowd fell silent as the principle began a speech about the class. Michael glanced through the crowds to Sara who sat staring at him as he nudged his way from the centre of the line of parents. He couldn't hide his smirk as he jogged across the field and into the car park. The area was coated with white stones, which crunched under his feet and left dust on his shiny black shoes.

He walked hurriedly to the limousine, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder as he pulled the handle and the door swung open. The crowd of spectators erupted into another fit of applause and whistles when the students all stood up and threw their caps into the air recklessly. The sky exploded in black silk and tassels before they all feel back to the ground. Sara pushed hurriedly through the crowd of roaring students as they hugged each other, exiting off the back of the stage and walking to the limo as fast as her legs could carry her.

Inside Michael had a buzzing in his ears, the sound you get when you strain to listen in silence. The interior of the car was black stitched white leather and the plush carpet was a dark grey colour. It looked hard and harsh but it was actually soft and welcoming. Michael rubbed his palms on his knees as his body shuddered with excitement. Outside the faint cries of elated students made Michael catch his breath with anticipation.

He glanced around the limo and his mind raced with impure thought as Sara's naked body flashed before his eyes. Michael had never felt so charged, the thought alone sending shockwaves to his groin. Michael's legs shifted on the silent carpet, his shoes scuffing the fibres flat beneath his feet. For a second he hoped he had understood Sara correctly but as soon as he heard the door click open he knew he had.

Her tiny body invaded the limo in front of him and she pulled the door close behind her quickly, kneeling in front of him. Michael gave her a grin, which she returned with earnest before they met half way in a passionate kiss. It was hard and hurried, both of them leaving each other's lips wet and swollen. Sara groaned into Michael's mouth when he placed his hands on her face, pulling her closer to him. "No panties eh?" Michael breathed into her face between kisses.

With a sigh Sara broke the kiss and stared straight into Michael's bluey orbs. Her eyes were heavy and wanton and she chewed on the inside of her mouth as she placed a gentle caress to each of his knees. "Shut up and undo your pants," she told him in a silky smooth command, ignoring his earlier comment. He was panting hard and reluctantly let her go to unbuckle his belt, keeping eye contact the entire time. His fingers fought with the buckle, each time it slipping from his grasp much to his frustration.

Sara let out a small laugh as she continued to run her feather light fingers up and down his thighs. Michael grumbled as he wrenched his belt apart, unbuttoned his pants and unzipped his fly. As if on cue, Sara clawed her way up his body and recaptured his mouth in a fiery kiss. Her cap was gone and Michael gripped a handful of her auburn locks in his strong hands. Already the windows inside the car had begun to dampen with condensation but the tint kept the outside world from seeing that.

Sara reached out sideways and blindly pressed down on the door lock. It sunk into the door panel with a clonk and the automatic locking system caused the rest of the doors to lock too. Michael grinned against Sara's lips and she took the opportunity to push her tongue into his mouth. Michael delved his tongue into her warm mouth fervently, tasting her with long, hasty thrusts. She tasted like bagels and left a toasted taste lingering on his tongue.

His hands pulled at the edges of her black silky gown pulling her higher up his body. They broke the kiss briefly as Sara sat to straddle his lap, Michael's entire body shuddering with a concoction of expectation and fear of getting caught. His eyes roamed hers and her smooth skin prickled when his fingers brushed the bare areas under her skirt. Michael pushed his flat pal ms up Sara's thighs, pushing her skirt up around her waist in the process as she rested over his straining erection.

His eyes darted downwards and his licked his lips eagerly. "No panties," he confirmed with a wicked smile. "I like that," he breathed hard with an erotic grunt. His hands rested firmly on her hips, holding her moist, hot centre against the thin cotton fabric of his boxers. Sara's hands rested on his shoulders and she returned the sinful grin.

"I knew you would," she breathed as she played with the soft hair on his neck. It stood to attention under her touch, begging for more and Michael's penis twitched in its cotton prison. Michael inhaled hard as he seized her mouth in another rough kiss. Sara clutched at the back of his shaven head, pulling his face closer to hers as she instinctively ground herself against his lap.

Their tongues danced, massaging each other with wet impatience. Sara's bare knees dug bluntly into the white leather, creasing it each time she did. Her toes wiggled in her heels, slipping them off her feet to the carpet where they landed with a dull thud. Michael grabbed at her behind, kneading the milky skin with his powerful paws. The rush of adrenaline pumped through them both as they both explored each other's familiar bodies. Sara's run her hands down Michael's shirt, his skin perking to life beneath it.

Her hands found his boxers and she looped her fingers over the waistband, tickling at the protruding hairline up his stomach. His breath hitched when she yanked the elastic down, tucking it under his scrotum and freeing his rock solid member. It sprung into her view and spasmed in the cooler air. Michael broke the kiss suddenly; much to Sara's disappointment and his eyes fluttered open to meet her frown.

"Sara I don't have anything," he realised suddenly feeling guilty for taking this session so far. Sara bit her bottom lip between her perfect teeth and leant forward, her lips inches from his ear. She reached between them and captured his erection in her warm hand, stroking the sensitive underside with her fingers.

"Michael," she breathed hotly into his ear that made his jaw clench. The way she said his name was unbearable, like hot honey drizzling from her sweet mouth. "We don't need anything," Michael dug his fingernails into her behind denting the skin as she continued her delightful torture on his member. "I'm on the pill," she whispered, raising on her knees and crawling forward to hover over him.

Michael let out a low rumble in his chest when her sopping folds glazed over his tip. No condom meant a thousand times more pleasure for both of them and Michael gritted his teeth at the sensation. It was nothing he had ever experienced and his slammed his head into the back seat headrest as she rubbed him back and fourth over her dripping core.

"Sara…" he warned with closed eyes, stilling her movements with his dominant grip on her hips. He gulped down a much needed breath and saliva that had built up in his mouth. His eyes flickered open to meet hers and he smirked at her face, mockingly shy and seductive. "You're a bad girl," he growled impaling her quickly with one swift pull of her hips down onto his scorching erection.

Sara gasped at the unexpected invasion that sent a sudden joyous rush surging through her body. Michael's taught skin rubbed against her g-spot like clothes on an old washboard. It was a quick sensation that faded away for a moment as he rested inside her. Leaning forward slightly Michael slid his hand up to her back and angled himself inside her, grazing the nerve centre on the outside of her body. As her breathed hitch she held it with a small squeak.

"Bad girls need to be punished," he thundered into the limo, his deep velvety voice vibrating through her entire body as she gripped at the leather seat weakly. She rested her forehead to Michael's shoulder as he began moving inside of her, slow at first until her juices began to flow between them.

"Punish me Michael," Sara whispered breathlessly into his shirt as she rode him with abandon. Michael sped up his pace, pounding into her searing centre with each pant. Sara's screams got louder each time he buried himself to the hilt, bumping his pubic bone against her clitoris. When her head whipped up again he captured her mouth for a kiss, muffling her cries of pleasure from the outside world.

"You like that?" he grunted on a thrust as he studied her face. It was contorted with desire, her mouth hanging open and her lips shimmering with moisture in the dim limo lighting.

"Yeah…" she squealed on a gasp, moving her hand to grip into the skin of his shoulders through his crisp blue shirt. Sara repeated her answer on every push Michael made into her, her voice raising each time as she approached her orgasm. He felt amazing inside of her as the friction of their rough lovemaking heated their bare skins without a latex barrier.

Michael bore into her relentlessly, his breath short and hurried as his heart beat in time with his thrusts. Sara let out an extended moan through gritted teeth as her orgasm hit her, her body washing over with ecstasy. She dug her nails into Michael's skin, a sensation he enjoyed as he still drove into her as her muscles clenched around him.

Michael's own release loomed near and his vision flashed white when it hit. For a second he froze, his semen rippling from him and spilling deep into Sara's vaginal cavern. Their mouths were touching but neither moved to kiss the other as they whined into each other. He gasped for breath in the steamy limo as Sara collapsed against his chest, her damp, sticky forehead clinging to the expensive fabric of his shirt. Michael let out long audible pants and gripped the back of Sara's head, holding to him protectively.

"Oh my god," she sighed on much needed breath. Michael smiled against her hair which he combed with his long, skilful fingers. Sara let out a short giggle before pulling her face from his shirt and catching his eyes once more. "We have good sex," she boasted playfully. Michael let out a hearty laugh and pulled her face to his for a quick kiss.

"That we do Sara," he beamed at her as he brushed a damp lock of hair from her delicate features. "That we do."


End file.
